Talking to me through the summer night
Your winter voice - it warms me
though we are out of line of sight...
Walking with my fingers, make a path to you.
The thing that keeps me here tries and lingers.
Sometimes feeling blue...
Such blue skies I want to fly away from
back to winter and its dawn.
But for now my pen it wanders and it ponders -
a message, a little too forlorn!
Not to worry,
soon I'll leave the graveyard shackles,
that bound me here back to the one
whose heart I hold forever oh so dear!
Това е написано от моя приятел за мен, все пак ще си спестя името му!