And now, something new, something rich and faceless
That intangible thing that happens when you walk out the door
No longer here, but moving into a world of movement
I am left with my right thoughts and driven to snow
The promise of which folds me into pieces
Temperature drops and I dream of you
That slightly disintegrated picture in my mind
Since I stepped out on a separate path
For the day, for the week, or for a life
One could know but one wants the snow
To fall and take our breath away with the wind
Patch me up again after all my parts have blown away
Here I stay and here I play into heart all the art
I can get my hands on will fill me with color
That exists only on the inside as I peer
Through the looking glass that is the outside
Looking forward to frost and wandering front
As the change in season confronts my own
