I want to be in Winter in a warmer room,
forgotten books are there, a pen and paper sheets.
No one shall enter for a while, I am alone,
and hear how hail and snow play havoc in the streets.
I read and close my eyes to dream away my time,
forgotten names, no faces, it has been too long.
No memory of details, how it ended soon,
I come across that darkest feeling of all wrong.
In Winter I shall feel my pain once more this way,
forget it then and bury it in frozen ground.
Inside is comfort of an easy chair that waits,
it is the place where I shall be till I am found.