A blanket of stars over snowcapped mountains. Fresh powder crunching beneath cold feet. Now a red, runny nose smells of pine. Filling the old soul with such calm.
Through the pine and fir, a river wends its way. Its water so bitingly cold. Against tattoed fingers filling up a canteen made of wood.
Somewhere along the busy river, an old and weathered cabin awaits. So invitingly warm, with its brick chimney puffing out smoke from a crackling fire.
Suddenly the pine and snow scented silence is broken. By the loud rumble of a hungry belly. Smiling from ear to ear, the old soul starts making her way back to the mountain cabin. Because supper will soon be ready.
As she steps onto the rickety old porch. And the sound of groaning floorboards cut through the silence. All she can think is. If only this was real.
Cause peeking through the frost covered windows. A flour coated man dressed in apron and comfy clothes is playing the accordion. The sight and sound filling the old soul with such overwhelming joy.
But this is all a dream. The dream of an old soul wishing for a snow capped mountain. Where all one can hear is the crunch of snow beneath cold feet. While drinking coffee under a pine tree.