A thousand memories loom in morning sun.
Winter blows through my imagination, gusts through lost time.
That gorgeous smile that whispers above my bed, straying me from home.
Where is home?
I still believe in Summer days,
always lost but found again.
It seems all that's consistent is my state of mind.
A frozen pool of emotion, washed out sky above his horizon.
It's true, I'm contained to this.
I'll never be set free, not until the story ends.
A thousand blank pages, please, just take the pen.
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