With fresh wind Spring came. And Love without hesitation on her pale face, knocked on old wooden door.
We, people. We build our foolish lives accordingly to rules set by false Gods, and tend to hide behind walls that are made out of thin air.
In that moment... I tell you. They crumbled and trembled before my own eyes. They shattered.
You see... In our hearts Summer shone brightly and Love grew slowly for quite some time.
And all that Love wanted was a bottle of red wine. My head between her tight thighs, and a safe hand to hold her at night.
Warm nights grew cold. I can still remember it all. Blues was playing, when Autumn with boredom under her arm waltzed in.
Then a stranger. A familiar one. Lust we call it, maybe you know it. Creeped in. Swept me off my feet. And filled my head with excitement that my body yearned for.
Now I know! That I don't grant wishes nor do I read bedtime stories for others to be heard. And that sadly, promises in Winter are somehow even harder for me to keep.