The dim moon glowed among the gentle dark
Between the white clouds and the lucid eye
Bearing the weight of time on its slim arc
Sighing on how quickly moments flied by

Walking alone along the same old streets
Glancing upon the streams that used to flow
The little nests, once of vigor and tweets
Now buried deep under the pale white snow

As shooting stars blazed across the vast night
Watching the winter dream to be unsealed
As time scattered along the endless white
Across the backyards, the streets and the field

To fetch the shadow of spring underneath
The memory of which nature bequeath