I spend my time getting lost between what I should be doing and what I dream of doing.
This in between space is where I meet you, because as we know it, we're both dreamers caught up in a vile world of necessity.
I miss the smell of wood burning. I would like to stay warm near the fire, warm my hands. and your heartfelt words will keep my heart warm too.
We will etch broken hearts on broken wood.
The forest will sing our names. Faintly echoing the ideals we have lost on our way.
I don't mind the wandering. Just keep yourself close to me .. and whistle a little tune for the lonely birds ..
There's no use crying over burnt toast.