Losing interest in the echoes of the
past,
a past I've secretly clung onto for
months,
not in wanting it back,
but in mourning the end of it.
A ghost haunting my thoughts,
pulling me away from today,
from the forest covered mountains on
all sides,
from the river split by small forested
islands,
trying to melt and see the blinding
sun,
deer digging through the snow
as a bald eagle takes to the sky,
a place I hope to visit
for many years to come.
-Zero
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