The cold november air stirs me from my restless slumber,
My eyelids open with false dreams of summer,
My body motionless, no attempt to rise,
Unlucky number 17 is my silent cry,
The seasons have changed and the years have passed,
But some dark memories will always last,
I close my eyes, my mind takes me there,
That starless night,I can smell the smoke in the air,
That fiery blaze still burns deep within my soul,
As I find my self chasing what that night stole,
I remember the emptiness and the everlasting pain,
And knowing my life would never be the same,
They say, pain and loss teach us what it is to feel,
But I would trade in that lesson for these wounds to heal,
As I lie in reflection, resurrecting ancient tears,
I hear the calendar scream, "It's been five years".