Springtime in Siberia
by Mary King
this soft spring night
from someone’s window
comes streaming, dreaming
those young voices singing
‘i saw her again’
and again i remember
a soft spring night
like roses through a barbed wire fence
remember how it used to be
when everything was fresh and new
and all the pain unknown to me
this soft spring night
as i sit by my window
from somewhere their voices
come drifting, lifting
‘hello, darkness, my old friend’
and what jubilant sadness
the first time i heard it
like flowers wilted in the snow
remember how it used to be
when anything was possible
and all the pain unknown to me
but it’s not so bad here
not so very bad...
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Copyright © 2005 by Mary King
