You can tell
at this time of year,
the sun is moving further away.
Even the sun's shines are cold
to the touch,
and I don't feel young
so much.

Something still burns though,
as I pretend I can breathe fire
with freezing smoke coming from my
hamstrung lungs,
dispite this ice blue picture I'm
set in.
All that's missing is the stream crossing bridge,
and you,
but you aren't missing - I know where you are.

The brave winter birds are
bubbling along,
singing their troubles in a song,
little dragons
with flames that warm me.
I know
I will be with you shortly.