Somewhere in a city
Where there is always lack of space
A boy presses his face against the window
And dreams of winter grace
Of fierce winds and dancing snowflakes
Of marshmallows and freshly baked cakes
Pressing his nose against the window, cold
He detected a slight scent of mistletoe
But dreams are dreams and so do they remain so
Back to reality are we to go
Yet as he turned away from it all
He could have sworn he saw a snowflake fall
Trick of light
or trick of sight,
it was a special day of surprises
- and delight.