The snow is falling in naive hopes of making a difference
Believing a white spot in the gray sky might make things brighter
Reminding me of a child's dream to save the world,
of a child's feet travelling lightly on the harsh ground
And the mass-produced world contemplates on the snow falling,
the world falling,
(and maybe even my soul falling)
as another one of those unexplainable things
like the way I never stop hoping for you to think of me
And while the snow optimisticly tries to find a cure for cancer
I mock it behind my white window panes
Safe and secure from caring about anything else
but the healthy glow from sprayed and imported oranges
and the soothing scent of tea dancing with the air,
your hands in my hair,
(and this clichéd despair)
Just another one of these trivial things
while I endlessly wish for you to think of me

~