My heart was hard granite rock.
Rigid, unmoving.
Yet how has it now been filled with life?
The robin chirps of a glacier millennia past,
that carved lakes that shimmer,
and rocks that sparkle,
that nourished the tiniest cracks,
from which pine trees sprout.
But where are you now?
Where are you?
All the remains is the love you created,
And the occasional snow,
That bears some semblance
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