The writer was on a journey
Across the frozen plain
Looking to put his past behind him
Along with the hurt and pain.
Life for him had become
Just too hard
He'd been dealt a hand
And he had played his last card.
He had stumbled and fallen
Upon the rock-filled soil
Oh to be someplace warmer
Where he need not slave nor toil.
He had used those around him
No more favors, or good grace
There were answers to be found
Hard truths to face.
So off he went
A dream, a crumpled twenty dollar bill
A empty heart, and curious mind
Both he needed to fill.
He wasn't at all sure
Of all the places he hadn't went
Where ne wanted, or needed to go
He'd travel until his hope or his money was spent.
Wanting to be warmer
He headed toward the south
All he knew is what he heard
That and word of mouth
(to be continued)