Sleeping beneath the winter sky, the drops of snow will melt.
Across my face the winds will fly and the dreams of what they have dealt.
And in the night i will meet the sun, sleeping by my bed.
And in the morning realize, my dreams are still unread.
Good night i tell my brothers child, tomorrow you will be awake.
And though between the then and now in imagination you will partake.
And in the morning when you wake by the cabin at the lake.
By that morning summer light your life you can remake.
