Walking through the woods,
And bricking to my road,
Slowly, slipping by my fingers,
Days which I have counted aside.
But, this winter was not the usual,
As was sense of fragrance, roofed,
Tells a tale of someone’s presence,
Yet still hidden in the footsteps aloof.
He was there, standing up straight,
Smiling from his cheeks aside,
As fair, in the soul, like a snow,
As stern, in his words, as say so.
Stuck was standing, me like a fool,
Believing in the morning roar,
And, I was falling, all in love,
As travelling all along the woods.