An icicle hangs on the edge of your house, and every day it seems grow.
The ground is covered by a frost so white, that in the light it seems to glow. 
No plants peak through the winter shroud, so you draw a flower in the snow. 
When the snowflakes fall upon the grass, they all look the same beneath the sun, 
So when a few stick to your glove, you take special care to look at one. 
You stare up at the cloudless sky, and wonder where the gray has gone. 
When you stare out at the snowy hills, you see all the trees are bare. 
It’s seems the spinning world’s gotten as still as it could dare. 
As you tred across the frozen ground, you sing a song to fill the chilly air. 
Your song echoes through this snowy plane. 
When it gets back, you hear your name. 
It slowly fades into the wind, and all the winds can sound the same.