Wondering, lingering, hanging by a thread,
a murmur in cursive letters
youth spread over the scars of years past
not even hoping to heal
else than the day’s worries.
Pain is temporary, she said softly
lay with me, in silence and let life’s rumblings pass by
aime moi, in the simplest of things
not questionning your heart
ifs and whys folded and stored
neatly, leaving the open space to her winter whispers…
Ignoring the hail and the winds
Locking the cold outside
Your beauty muttered on the endless snowbanks….