Until the snow comes and won’t go away.

A mystery Springtide once took us away, along a leaf mould path where we built an underground house. We swore each other to keep the secret of that place; “Until the snow comes and won’t go away”!

In that now far away time, that twilight road to sunset, had something of the eternal, as we waited for its glory to fade out to our heavenly highway of stars.

I have a memory and it weeps for those who have the burden of knowing, knowing, the burning agony of youth lost.

For such times I once thought we were born but, it was a selfish thought, captive to Dante’s great joke! Now those hopes and aspirations have only the comfort of a choir of Frogs.

In strange turns of madness and a nagging fear, for some unfathomable reason, I still keep the secret.

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