And so you took a pen and wrote.
The room was dark, lonely and maybe cold.
But the words you wrote were like a winter coat
Will I get over all the tales you told?
Tales of winter, spring and summer day,
When we were together every time we woke
Took me back to when all was gay,
Clair memories, your perfect pen provoke
It was your soul you put down on paper
Purity of better days not ever to be seen
A candid spirit on a handwritten letter
Tears re-wet the lines where yours had been
Birthdays and new years shall not ever feel the same
And so, filled with a void every day became