life's no storybook
In the dead of winter,
bury my skin and bones
under the glistening snow,
I'll make dirtangels underground
and restore hope in heavy hearts.
We'll throw snow and catch colds,
curse the air and build igloos.
The night will cover us like a comforter
when we're aching after a short day.
The chills silence our voices,
and we take the time to remember
where we've been and who we were as
nostalgia tingles up our spines.
I've seen the snow so thick
and the wind so quick
it nearly carried me away,
and I was ready when the hail came.
My body trembles, words fade
as I watch carefully for ice patches.
All around me, white flakes celebrate,
in the dead of winter,
we're awaiting the new day.
bury my skin and bones
under the glistening snow,
I'll make dirtangels underground
and restore hope in heavy hearts.
We'll throw snow and catch colds,
curse the air and build igloos.
The night will cover us like a comforter
when we're aching after a short day.
The chills silence our voices,
and we take the time to remember
where we've been and who we were as
nostalgia tingles up our spines.
I've seen the snow so thick
and the wind so quick
it nearly carried me away,
and I was ready when the hail came.
My body trembles, words fade
as I watch carefully for ice patches.
All around me, white flakes celebrate,
in the dead of winter,
we're awaiting the new day.