• I look out my window, and say:
    "What should i do today?"
    I observe a single snowflake fall,
    which in turn signals the end of fall.
    The cold , crisp air chill the air.
    The snow clumps on my hair.
    The secrets of my hideaway,
    and my hopes to get away,
    seem to be driven back my the wash of snow.
    There's still something i want to know...
    Will i make it through this cold?
    Since I have no one here to hold.
    the snow's white purity holds no love,
    For that poor, sickly dove.
    At least it will cover my tracks.
    It's something that everyone lacks.
    the caressing sweetness of the old,
    I ran from there to join the cold.
    My body will be lost in time,
    Like the garden bed full of thyme.