The air here is slow, it breathes like steam
a fog bank hovers, settles within
time does not tick ahead
I stare at minute hands
this room is silent snow
falling, colored blue – then drifts
cold through broken windows
a fragmented dream
of you
The air here is slow, it breathes like steam
a fog bank hovers, settles within
time does not tick ahead
I stare at minute hands
this room is silent snow
falling, colored blue – then drifts
cold through broken windows
a fragmented dream
of you