A winter song

She was the song,

in a chorus - unheard.

You were the summer

in her winter of verse.

Yours was the melody

she wanted to learn;

it clung to her lips,

in silence it yearned.

It seems as though now,

you forgot every word;

In a field full of flowers,

she was the first.

There once was a song

you reminded her of -

she no longer longs,

yet she still loves.

- Lang Leav

Done