Snow falls in whispers, a soft refrain,
Through frosted glass, the night remains.
A station's hum, a train's low sigh,
The rhythm of the city's quiet reply.
Here in the glow, where the warm lights fade,
I drink to the snow, this snowlight serenade.
The world feels so far, yet it's just outside,
In the bar by the station, where secrets hide.
The Rhodes hums low, like a lover's plea,
A guitar weaves tales of bittersweet memory.
The bass walks slow, a heartbeat in time,
Brush drums sketch shadows, soft and sublime.
The snow tells no stories, it simply falls,
Erasing the echoes of hurried calls.
Each flake a silence, each drift a dream,
A fleeting moment in winter's stream.
Here in the glow, where the warm lights fade,
I drink to the snow, this snowlight serenade.
The world feels so far, yet it's just outside,
In the bar by the station, where secrets hide.
The night hums on, a vinyl's spin,
Snow piles deeper, the cold can't win.
In Asahikawa, where the winters stay,
The snowlight serenade plays softly away.
