Why does the wind blow, always so cold and bitter?
She must feel its presence also.
How can it be so cold, and never comforting?
She plays on my heart like this also.
Will this wind ever stop, and could it ever leave?
She could leave my thoughts also.
Although I try to forget, she always is in my mind.
That area must soon be vacated also.
As I lay here writing, my hands are stopped by her presence.
She has slowed my writing also.
Oh Draíocht, must she always be within your heart and your mind?
You too shall soon be able to move on also.