. .... ...

You come like a day of Indian summer, In the middle of my cold dark autumn night;
And I bask in your warmth, Oblivious of my daily insomnia, peacefully.
Waves keep crashing, on the rocky shore;
The foot prints on the sandy beach will soon be washed away,
The trees shed their leaves, and squirrels stock on nuts,
Winter will come soon, and my life will be cold again.
And memories will become fire flies, Surrounding me with their flickering flames.
A warmth I can only remember but not feel anymore.
Becoming numb to the cold, and oblivious to the shrouding snow,
Dreaming of the bright sunrise and the morning mist.
As my soul leaves all your memories behind.