John's p.o.v
Weakly, you crawl to me.
I gather you up into my arms
and whisper sweet nothings.
Our winter song, endgame
prophesies trouble is coming soon.
For as long as the sun and moon
continue to shine, I will stay true
to you. Escaping youth, our carefree days
that were full of less anguish.
The essence of memories is being able to cherish
what we lost in the fire. I can cope without your presence,
but hope won't let me cut off all ties.