Just a wisp of smoke in the twilight glow,
A fleeting image, quickly gone.
Passing by the darkened windows,
Maybe something long since done.
...
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inherited lov with poems and nature, ...
But there is that unmistakeable sudden chill,
That makes your neck hairs stand.
You don't know exactly what you feel,
And there's that trembling in your hands.
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inherited lov with poems and nature, ... But there is that unmistakeable sudden chill, That makes your neck hairs stand. You don't know exactly what you feel, And there's that trembling in your hands.