As my eyes stretch their scope in the distance
trying to find a destination becomes a bane.
The snow flickers lights like penance
paid by a soul rotting in pain so vain.
And so I let those boots travel the distance
down the lane following the houses in the plain.
As the ice grows thinner time becomes of essence
for I need to find shelter before my limbs complain.
I was told that beneath the plain
lies a valley with a stream that was once
rich in gold for those who live for gain.
Cold and moist are mere inconvenience.
Soon fires of home will warm my brain
to memories from a childhood experience
peering from a wide window pane
over a river flowing in brilliance.
My father’s voice will be the cadence
that will guide my steps as they ingrain
deeper in the snow, farther with prudence.
He is all I look for in this distant plain.