The whisper the wind that left behind
Will take me where?
The tired calmness of end January cold
Bringing out the path that’s hazy now.
Breeze not the loneliness making up environ
Of solitary imposed, convicted loneliness.
It’s now hard to remember her face as I was thinking
But, no, the coffer is open and the wind sailing me
To the neverland–once true now seems to be–
Just some random dreams or memories crumpled.