I watch my life grow darker now each day
and all around me lesser world is seen,
a bitter cold and storms till it is May,
a window with no view, a misty street,
my mind that’s waiting but for what indeed.
The postman lost a letter no one needs
it’s flying high above the neighbour’s roof,
forgotten words that no one ever reads
as rain has washed away the ink, they’re gone.
The postman sighs and struggles, moving on.
I’m not that good in seasons with no light.
If I could just fast forward a few months,
or replay Summer – I would be alright,
relive a bit of magic that I found.
But such is life, to live it all year round.