the’re falling flakes
big and cold
frozen lakes
in a sleeping wold
I’m walking
frozen, too
who did it, who?
look and see the
winter’s act
killing all emotions
with frost
we’re realizing
the real fact
somewhere my dreams
have been lost
nobody’s knowing
my hope covert with
snow
under ice-fields
brooks are drumming
the she-wolf lies
low
summer is coming
nothing’s death,
but sleeping
and in the end I’m
weeping
(15th of February
1994. For Matt’s decision to stay a year longer in Australia)
