The life of you was the only memory I ever had as I skied the slope of ice
And then I began to ski down the mountain waiting for the cold to pass me by
But you swept me away and up in the air
Where the snow eventually became too hard for me to breathe in.
YOU ARE READING
The me to you, The me to her, The me to him, The me of you and me, in our dreams
PoesiaMy love letters of poetry to you Was the last memory that became the start of the dream And the only voice that becomes reality is the one I write in my stories from my dreams of you.
