Afar the hill the white pine grows
To toil a life which of that is not known
A breath of fire, to ash and of smoke
Footsteps up the mountain
Glared light shines bright to float
Needles drift to brush courteous branches
Adrift like the wind, a fallen stanza
Lost to be found in a world without cares
Where the white pine grows
All the space shall it share
To pine away for the lover
Up the sierra bare
Hope you enjoyed reading, -elleseng
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