"you are made of summer wine,
i am made of ice."
quoth he, the winter seeker,
the trotter in the rain.
i was keeping my head high
underneath the summoned pain
his steps grew weaker
as i stood still in the air, all aloof
while the rain triggered
colorful sounds on the tinted roof
jammed my head with the thoughts
dangerous to my heart,
fruitful to my youth..