How I remember sleepless nights
when we would read by candlelight,
and on the windowpane outside
a new world made of snow;
a million feathers falling down,
a million stars that touch the ground,
so many secrets to be found
amid the falling snow.
Maybe I am falling down.
Tell me should I touch the ground?
Maybe I won’t make a sound
in the darkness all around.
The silence of a winter’s night
brings memories I hold inside;
remembering a blue moonlight
upon the fallen snow.
Maybe I am falling down.
Tell me should I touch the ground?
Maybe I won’t make sound
in the darkness all around.
I close my window to the night.
I leave the sky her tears of white.
And all is lit by candlelight
amid the falling snow.
And all is lit by candlelight
amid the falling snow.
