It was in the closing of a winters day,
In the middle of night and a sun painted sky,
The sound of a beloved evening yet from the safety of my room,
It was the smell of the warm winter blanket upon my legs,
It was with the naked window letting darkness penetrate my room- even through the light which shone palpably from circles in the roof,
It was the sound of a pretty piano piece.
With all of these, comfort was expected yet with all of these still, grayness filled my gloaming of the untouched.
