Cold Stream (day 2792)

When the wind blew at my door
There I was standing tall
I saw the drifts of snow gather
I heard the poplars clack together
And deep within my cooling heart
I heard a groan so vivid
It symbolized the burden laid
At the foot of my days toil
It symbolized ice cold water
Gathered at the stream
And every step upon
Frozen soil with a cold shovel
It symbolized the sweat that broke
Each sinew in my back
To which I closed my eyes tightly
Forehead resting on the window
Wind blowing at my door

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