The sky is white with blue clouds and it's snowing
just enough to curl the ends of my hair.

At night it's so cold that my nostrils stick together
and the stars are as numerous as wedding chapels in Vegas.

Some days the air is so perfect to build a snowman
when the damp snow packs beneath my feet.

I run sliding forward into your arms
sipping hot chocolate with miniature marshmallows floating.

I'm watching the Grinch's small heart, while mine grows
more in love with you each time Dr. Suess rhymes.

There are cookies baking somwhere in this blizzard
and all I can smell is cinnamon and nutmeg.

I wish it wasn't too cold for frozen peanut butter pie,
but I guess pumpkin and Cool Whip will have to do.

And when the house is so quiet that I can hear myself breathe,
I realize that Santa's cheeks are actually pink and not red

And it looks like the crystal glass tree might fall,
but all I can think about is mistletoe and you.

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