Part I. Winter There you are standing Trapped and immobilized. In a place where abysmal darkness reign.

Forever forgotten and forsaken. Like a marionette, Waiting for her puppet master to return. To pick up the strings, And bring her back to life. Then the haunting notes of the piano arise, Their origin unknown A beat two Pounding staccatos that knife into your very soul. Your arms are lifting, Your legs are shifting. Inch by painstaking inch, You drift across the stage. You make me sad, With your melancholy arabesque. A personification of love lost At the beginning of winter, When everything withers and dies. Despite the music, Despite the movements, Something vital is missing. Something just isnt right. Youre moving but Its like youre just going through the motions. Its like youre just existing and Now you dont even see the point of that anymore. Part II. Spring But then just as you are winding to a stop, Your strings slacking Your shoulders hunching Your master alters the tune. Light and sprightly,

Like the air in spring The season of love and rebirth.

Your maestro has arrived, and he played you so well, he played you so gracefully, that your glides are fragile and delicate like a swan yet at the same time, sleek and strong like a tiger; Your merry pirouette, brings smile into my face, Your lively grand jete, brings hope into my life, hope for a future love; I thank you for this hope; and I'm sorry, but I must go now, I must go and run after my love! But don't worry, I'll be back and hopefully then, we'll both perform an act of love, instead of heartache.