She looks out through the window
Into the falling snow
And wishes she could remember clearer
Those days from long ago.
The days she’d sip hot cocoa
And sit upon her bed
Dreaming of the years to come
The years that she should dread.
And if I could, I’d tell her
To slow down and take her time
Before her loved ones left her
And before she cut those lines.
Though it may be fun to dream of
The future you may have
You never think of cuts and scars
And losing those you had.
My advice to all those young ones
Who dream of future days
Is to slow down and count the seconds
While you still have time to play.