There is a face
Etched in the frost
On my window pane.
The features are vague
But I know it is yours.
There is a name
Called out through the rustle of the trees
On lonely winter nights.
The sound is distant
But I know it is my name.
There is a voice
Falling with the snow
That blankets a sleeping Earth.
The words are obscure
But I know they are your words.
There is a heartbeat
Following my footsteps
Along an empty street.
The pulse is dampened
But I know it beats for me.














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