A cabin anywhere
where the north winds blow
in the middle of the woods
the furious snow
makes not a sound
its there i must go
smoke from the chimney
unfurling as tho
it could reach the heavens and
continue to go
till there is no tomorrow
nor a day left to know
saturated in silence
its there i must go
my mind is racing
the seasons pass slow
for at least a century
near the river flow
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