Though, the snow, is falling hard;and the roads, are all deserted,
A lonely figure, trudges on;into life, he’s not inserted,
As, his pace, is slow and steady;it seems, he gains, no ground,
While, the snow, piles up;his lips move, but make no sound.
There is, no reason, for him, to speak;for no one, hears his voice,
And as, he travels, all alone;it never, was his choice,
Slowly, the snow, whitens all;,the country, is, turned white,
As, in the darkness, he moves about;for someone, stole, his light.
Sanity, is, a relative thing;but the snow, reveals, his path,
His footprints, mark, the trail he walks;yet love’s, beyond his grasp,
The snow, at first, is white and pure;yet with time, becomes dirty and black,
And as, he slowly, trudges on;his memories attack.
Though, the snow, comes with cold;the temperature, is not, his foe,
And as, he walks, his, steady pace;his loneliness, only grows,
As, you watch, him walk, his trail;realize, what, you possess,
Though, it seems, he has, nothing at all;he may be better, having less.
All your dreams and desires;don’t mean, you’re different, at all,
Even though, you may have, more or less;if you stand, you still, can fall,
As the snowfall, continues on;his purpose, stays, in his mind,
The snowfall, doesn’t obscure, his sight;his broken heart, makes him, snow blind!