For months we moved in rituals that went beyond my memory
Gliding through days of oblivion, from darkness to darkness
A mist between us and time, the world moving faster or slower.
No mind seemed present, pain did not need to be killed
As it reminded me of life.
And yet flowers start all over, this frolic habit of a stubborn cyclus.
And it is so beautiful outdoors, I say. But still a bit too cold.
You wear your winter head-gear with the pride of a king.
My new ritual is making photos of your face,
not sure my memory will keep. Springtime!