The snow has fallen over the path.

Up to the hill! Dull's kill.

By barefoot enjoying the bath.


A knock on the door,

at nine a o'clock.

A poetry time,

some Pegasus' line.


The library's dim light, and

the soft words fills the night.


Taken hands one on each side.

Just right!

The will of your own has been shown.


The choir of the logs on the fire

can't be hided.


Over the piano a paper and a pen.

A headache nearly went.


A short walk made a map on the snow.

Lock the door, please,

join the Pegasus' core.