It was winter.
Or was it summer?
I don’t know; it was cold.
Whether it was cold
because it was winter, or cold
because my warmth had left me.
I don’t know; it was cold.
My warmth.
The light of my life?
The light of my beginning,
perhaps.
Filled with happiness,
filled with strength.
Then it was gone.
Just gone.
Physically gone.
Unable to see; unable to hear.
She’s somewhere though,
isn’t she?
She’s with me.
She’s with me.
