The lights of the on the blanket of snow reflected rays of the sun
dance a sad dance on the sill of my window through which I look outside and think of you.
It's a dance intermittent.
Just like the many threads of thoughts of you that play through my head
and make me feel a tat more greyer then a shady grade of blue.
It's not easy being smittend.
The sad tones of a violin tearing throught the boxes of my music-centre
feed the tears that I feel are beginning to well.
Quiet rivers run deep.
The night again has left me with an enstranged sense of loneliness
that takes hold of my heart and festers to a swell.
Silently I weep.
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