Written by Drew Martin
Snow falls in the mystic garden
No reason for the sun
Moonbeams cast a fair reflection
For the stars to have some fun
Outside, it looks like a glass globe
Purchased from a shop
How many times is it shook?
Before it starts to stop?
Nevermind the dying grass
Or the dead leaves in decay
Underneath a frosty blanket,
Can’t see them, anyway
As the sky opens up
No sign to mark the close
It’s all a true uncertainty
That everybody knows.
Text © Drew Martin
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