If the snowman were alive,
he would accompany me,
he would tell me of his live,
he would sit here beside me..
...
Read this winter poem when it is not,
and on your forehead a snow flake might drop
Read this winter poem when it's not white,
but somewhere is and you'll feel just right
...
If The Snowman
If the snowman were alive,
he would accompany me,
he would tell me of his live,
he would sit here beside me..
If the snowman could speak,
he would tell me many stories,
he would tell me not to feel alone,
that there would be a place I could call 'home'..