Snowfalls

love, memories and romanticism

In a corner of the soul
I laid down,
on the day of the first snowfall,
the white lilies
of the first love.
It was snowing with kisses,
the footsteps were leaving traces
of unborn longing.
Today, I look back,
there in that deserted corner,
and I only find
the traces of the longing,
but i do not know anymore
of which snowfall.
Where are they I wonder,
the snowfalls
with snowflakes of love?