From the west

FROM THE WEST :

This is where I come from

Nowhere November

No season to remember

My dream a lonely highway

Where nightmares cone to breed

The trees of summer

Once green an lush

Like young hope

Line the road a corpse way

Barren and dying

Waiting for the desolate chill

And icen desert of snow

A final season to go

As I walk the fading road

Cracks and dead weeds row in row

The sun rising biting the night

Bringing winds to rend my flesh

I wish only to rest

But I can't sleep here

Ruins of road before me

Walk into the copse

The gnarled branches

They grab at me

Trying to take claim

Of the little I've left

As forward I walk

To the snows

Slowly to the east

Looking for the place

For the cold to claim

My rest

Preserved forever

Against my will

In its frozen breast

A memory best forgotten

Of a shadow from the west

Kaloriinn, James. Mason