Young enough,
Not to know.
Newly fallen,
Virgin snow.
[Upon the hills
seek wanderers,
Looking for today
Far below,
The comfort-dwellers
Lost in yesterday]
For the promise to bear fruit,
The path be brightly lit.
But who can tell tomorrow now
Before the storm has hit.
Somewhere lies my companion
Perhaps to never rise.
For all my life I search for thee
To see those bright-lit eyes.
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