I think this could almost count as a sequel of sorts or maybe some sorta poem, it has a sort of strange rhythm to it.
~ Autumn Chill
Irked by his demands, but bound by her word, she keeps her promise.
Though she never sees him again after that day.
Yet somehow he is always there.
In the cold wind whispering in her ear, that curls her hair like his chilled fingers. In the snow flakes that dance as they fall, tickling her nose, she feels him.
She’ll never thank him, not even if given the chance, she’s too proud for that.
But sometimes on late autumn nights as she leaps through the city, her golden sand sending all into the world of dreams, she pauses in her dream weaving when a sudden chill flutters in the air.
Frost laces the darkened windows, delicate patterns that have become all too familiar to her.
Pale fingers touch gold lips.
Despite the warm colors of the fading fall leaves that surround her she sees only blue.
Despite the chill, she only remembers the warmth.