attempt at shot of joy in D minor, 26/02/2019
The wind rustles your hair, the bite of cold sharp on your cheeks, biting.
The sun describes a languid arc through the sky and you wonder about the northern lights, remember a closeness.
You feel the bite of the wind sharper still, as a smile draws in your face.
The sun describes a languid arc through the sky and you wonder about the northern lights, remember a closeness.
You feel the bite of the wind sharper still, as a smile draws in your face.