You left on the day when the blackbirds arrived in the valley and the icy winds turned into a warm breeze, drifting through the trees of a barren forest.
Now I’m walking again to the beat of a drum
And I’m counting the steps to the door of your heart
Your touch just wouldn’t satisfy like the look in your eyes.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave the luster of mid-day to objects below.