On a cold, bitter Christmas Eve, I wandered down an unknown path and at its end sat a small, isolated tree; it's branches – leafless and frosted with ice – shimmered and twinkled in the moonlight.
From that tree fell a frozen tear that shattered into a million pieces against the snow, concurrently with the resonating ring of a bell in my ears.
As tears rolled down my cheek, I whispered,
"I am too..."
Dec 3, 2016
Dec 3, 2016 at 1:17 PM UTC
On a cold, bitter Christmas Eve, I wandered down an unknown path and at its end sat a small, isolated tree; it's branches – leafless and frosted with ice – shimmered and twinkled in the moonlight.
From that tree fell a frozen tear that shattered into a million pieces against the snow, concurrently with the resonating ring of a bell in my ears.
As tears rolled down my cheek, I whispered,
"I am too..."
An Ode to Chopin's Prelude in E-Minor.
