My memories may be blurry,
But I still remember the snow,
I was sitting in a little coffee shop,
Sitting there knowing I have to let go,

Then the wind began to blow,
I drank a steaming earl grey,
Then I walked with snow and all,
Down the hill, down the road,

The giant sequioas began to turn white,
Steeping dirt where ferns started started to grow,
The creeks still barely running,
It all like a TV show,

My mind began to drift,
To all the wondeful…
In this broken world,
All the memories sting
and hurt,

After my venture,
I went to my room and sat at the window,
Looking at the snow, falling,

And I remembered what it was like,
what it was like to look into your eyes,