Leaving town so soon,

as the sky begins to turn.

The frost blinding the way.

Whenever you feel cold,

you go, go, go...

You block it all out with fire,

warmth, a cover.

The flames chant of riddance,

as they sit around and cry.

For there is still ice,

where a heart used to be.

It's hard to let go,

to claim defeat,

to fly away with the smoke

when you could sulk with the ash.

But a soul penetrates,

like a heart beats.

And it tells you to go.

You've stayed around,

in the frostbitten snow,

and wished for change.

But the change is in the flames.

Ride the wing of the dusty gray,

and you will fly away.

Migrate with the waves of nature.

It is time to move on.

But letting go,

of that first sight of snow,

is never easy.

Yet there comes a time,

that it is no longer

worth the cold.



But i will never forget my first snowman.