On the other side of sunshine, there's a stranger in familiar clothes.

He has watched, he has listened, he has trekked this road time without number, but I guard this route for myself and another.

In his hand, he holds an ancient relic, as old as time, as sweet as rhyme.

He offers it to me wrapped in linen made from the flesh of his heart or so he says.

He feels to me like a missing eye that has found its way back to me. It is an offer so tempting but what does he want in return?

I will stay with my other and reject his offer.

Because something tells me I'll miss the snow if he lured me to the other side of sunshine.