Where Cruel Winter Winds Blow

I walk along the silver streets where the aspen leaves are falling.
In the rain the lamplights cast a warm and misty glow.
But these familiar things I notice not, nor where-to I am heading;
For in my heart lies a barren land where cruel winter winds blow.

In my dreams of yesterday, blooms a memory like a newborn rose.
There I held my lover's hand in ramblings under a moonlit sky.
Sweet harmonies graced the air in this land my mind hath froze.
But like all the flowers I've ever known, I'll watch this rose wither and die.

Yet still I hold my breath when the vision slips into my mind, unintended --
Of a shy, stolen kiss on upturned cheek, and a warm, tender embrace.
And there in the darkness of the night, my heart suddenly flies unshackled.
And in the wayside trees the resting raindrops glow like hidden stars amazed.

Oh how briefly, how soon, must this heart once more return to its barred home;
Once more chained by loops of loneliness, its wings clipped and shorn.
How it hurts, to love one with all your might but know that your heart stands alone;
To have your dreams and hopes denied, cast aside, ripped and torn.

Where do these dead dreams go; in what never-land, will their souls reside --
Once they vanish from your hand like snow melted by sunlight?
Is it to where discarded reveries hang thick and empty castles on clouds abide?
Before, aglitter with hope and promise; now, filled with despair and blight?

The world goes on turning, oblivious to the tragedies of my life.
It makes each passing day, each waking moment, a pain I must surpass.
But how do broken hearts heal? How do broken hearts survive?
Maybe they only mend imperfectly -- like pieces of shattered glass.

So now I walk these streets again where the aspen leaves are falling.
In the rain the lamplights cast a warm and misty glow.
But these familiar things I care not, nor where-to I am going;
For my lonely heart, shall always be where cruel winter winds blow.