Sonnet
The wind is bitter cold, it's fierce and bold.
As it rustles the leaves, I remember,
A story that I had left to be told.
It started with one day in December.

You make me want to burn a city down,
Because my lonely heart, it aches for you.
And searching through my empty heart I'm bound;
I'm bound to search from clouds to morning dew.

I hope, I wish, I pray, for love one day,
Eternal harmony and tangible,
A thing I only felt alone, at bay.
A thing you never thought was possible.

I know you left for greener pastures won,
But know you left me here, the better one.