It’s the end of December
I wonder if you remember
Skating on the frozen lake
You were seven years old
And in love with the cold
And You told me all about your home
Your land of summer
Of sun and flowers
And every year I see your face
When the first snow falls
And it reminds me there is grace in being happy with what you own
The fire whispers softly
My heart is beating slowly
Thankful for the good and bad
No longer longing for oceans
I know the options are open
I’m choosing to stay where I am
My land of winter
Of winds and whispers
And every year I see your face
When the first snow falls
And it reminds me there is grace in being happy with what you own
