The mind will do what it always does.
It will be okay, maybe not today.
The head just can’t leave it as it was.
Looking for a way, hoping that we may,

From the vapor of our breath,
Find the words we dared not say,
“I wished you were there yesterday.”

At least, I’m still hoping that we may.

---

Winter’s rain does what it always does.
Have our feelings drenched; wash them down the drain.
The house don’t feel the same as it was.
One lover’s heart-wrenched, the other’s gone again.

Soon, the snow will freeze our breath,
Bury what we didn’t say,
“I wished that you were here today.”

And now I’m counting down to the day.

---

The mind stops doing the thing it does.
It’s the only way, counting on the day,
The head leaves everything as it was.
Reminiscence stays in the ground it lay.

When sunlights saturate the sky,
Spring will thaw that ache of mine.
I keep rehearsing that one line.

‘Til it finally comes true one day.