Halloween in New York. On the way home from London. Eight weeks on tonight still. But all the other winter's I spent. . She lived in a house. Where Mission Street bends.
I walked down the hill, sluggishly and frail. The wind blew hard, hard on me. I imagined it your ghost white body. Making love with me. . I walked down the hill.
Out of the box, down colorful hill. Out of the box, down colorful hill. . Winds lifting tired feet, skin sensing challenge ahead. Winds lifting tired feet, skin sensing challenge ahead.