Snowfall in my hands, melting like the passing plans of a year that rushed right by me like a whisper in the wind. People hurry down the streets, carrying their quiet dreams, wrapped in paper, tied with memories of where they’ve been. And I breathe in the winter, Let it settle in my bones. Every snowflake feels like something I once lost coming home. So here’s to the moments we thought we missed, To the ones we’ll never understand. Here’s to the heartbeats caught in the cold, Like snowfall in my hands. And if this season brings us peace, If only for a span Then let the world keep turning slow, Like snowfall in my hands. Candles dancing on the walls, echoes of forgotten calls from the people we still carry in the corners of our hearts. Every streetlight hums a tune, to the silver of the moon, as December paints the city like a quiet work of art. And the world grows a little softer when the air begins to glow. We remember who we wanted to be so many storms ago. So here’s to the moments we thought we missed, To the ones we’ll never understand. Here’s to the heartbeats caught in the cold, Like snowfall in my hands. And if this season brings us peace, If only for a span Then let the world keep turning slow, Like snowfall in my hands. Maybe the magic was never the gifts, But the spaces between all the shifts. Maybe the quiet can teach us to stand, With snowfall… snowfall in our hands. So here’s to the moments that made us whole, To the ones we still don’t understand. Here’s to the hope we carry inside, Like snowfall in our hands. And if this season holds us close, In ways we hadn’t planned Then let the night keep drifting slow, Like snowfall in my hands.
