I imagine fifty-two.
I'll no longer think of you,
Although out there in the snow
You'll be there before I go.

In the streetlights' bridge vignette
Every thought will be regret,
From the dense dreams I pursued
To the nightmare I conclude.

Do you think the others knew
What I never quite dared do,
Of how drink was not enough,
How we never called our bluff?

Finally my fifty-two
Will prevent me chasing you
But my motives for farewell
Are so painful I can't tell.