How cold the mid winter wind blows.
Was it not late summer but a moment ago,
When reverie mingled with the waking hour
And the scent of the last willful blossom
Lingered longer than most would dare?

I had not thought to meet the baleful winds
Of this stormy hour lost on menacing wave.
I had not considered when time and tide
Would steer my course so far from home.

But, as the great heroes of old, I stand
Faithful, my collar turned to the spray
as I navigate the swan roads ever onward.



I hope the candle still burns in the window.
I hope it still lights all as I remember it.

Penned by my hand on the 1st of Daedalan, in the year 875 AF.