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When the snow is softly falling
on the trees and gardens now so bare,
i hear the ghosts of memories calling
in the frigid winter air.
I look again at the big logs
merrily crackling in the old fireplace,
cuddled down in the soul caressing heat,
i shall fear no harm from
the frigid winter night.
the frigid winter night.
Then, i'll grow very lonesome,
for all the dear friends i used to know.
Dreams of old memories
will arise all about me,
will arise all about me,
tears will fill my aging eyes,
i shall be thinking of us all.
So, when the snow outside is softly falling,
and the icicles pallid light reflects a glow,
all the gray haired ghosts of memories,
will be sitting here with me,
until off to dreamland we all go.

This work by mysticdave is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.










































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