The Walk
It was a cold winter day
Take out the trash they say
But the waste bin, it is so far away
My knees are weak, My arms are heavy
I look down, there is snow on my sweater already.
The smell of spaghetti streams from the house.
I am so hungry, I hope for help but none arrives.
I am all alone on this cold empty road on this cold winter day.
The snow picks up now, and the world is cast to gray.
I hear sovngarde beckon me. I hope the end will be soon.
There will be no pasta today.