y

awn.

This winter has come swiftly,
And windswept like the trees,
I wrap myself in tired coats
And hum myself songs I never wrote.

These hymns I sing alone
Remind me so of home,
Where you waited with arms outstretched,
And you were waiting for me.
And you were waiting for me.

And I’m terrified that somehow
I will forget that lonely sound,
That so strongly carries your memory
With everything you mean to me.

So I sing myself to sleep
And I whistle when I breathe,
And I am living our music,
Because I so desperately need it.