In the middle of a cold, dark night,
A memory reaches out,
And as it twists and turns the heart,
We learn what pains about,
As the wind swirls and howls,
And the air is filled with snow,
For in this world of whiteness,
Isolation is what grows.
The face that memory brings me,
It brings to me every day,
And in this wintery, snowy cold,
The heart is swept away,
The snow and cold all disappear,
As the memory takes hold,
Taking the pain of a broken heart,
Giving warmth inside the cold.
It might be better to hold a memory,
Or to hold on to the dream,
Than to just give up on love,
To become part of some lost scene,
So I wait another day,
In this biting, bitter cold,
And the only thing that keeps me warm,
Is in the dream, its you I hold.