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Drifts

de After The Burial

Oh so fucking cold.
The winds the drifts of winter bone chilling nightfall.
Early evening sundowns make nights seem more like Borealis dreams.
My roots run deep through my veins my ancestry.
Everything I know in body and soul lakeland this is all I know look to
the river rushing unparalleled in its power.
It carves away at the land eroding the banks consuming the sands and
washes away to her majesty.
They say theres no place like home and they said it best Ive realized
what this place means to me.
Lakeland I can see my reflection in the land.
I see my form and I know the land reflects my Self.
It reflects in my Self.

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