The hardest thing about writing a book is the start, and it's the same in any relationship.
I never failed you, but I mislaid myself into a dark vision, I made mistakes, immorality was so easy and those midnight visitors lured me.
You acted like a sturdy oak tree, the seasons visited you, but you survived there with a gentle smile.
I had to return. My fall had arrived, and the cold of winter lived in my heart, you were my shelter.
My love, the hardest thing about writing a book is the start.
It's good to be home.