With every passing day,
When another snowflake lands upon my nose,
I begin to forget to remember.
I can no longer feel the brisk spring air,
Now, every flower I picked for my mother has died
And the dandelions I bundled together as beautiful flowers
Have been plucked and have faded into the wind.
The warm stones under my feet,
The grains of sand that slipped themselves into my shoes,
Have been washed away with the waves
And lays but an unreachable dream.
Now, the leaves swaddle the cold ground,
The sky becomes dreary and grey,
The windows become sheeted with ice,
I have only distant memories,
Of the weeds, the sharp rocks and the riptides
To guide me into the blizzard.