I was lost in winterís storm
Except for a memory
Of a picture in my mind
Of a father I never met
I only heard about
From Miss White
In a Sunday school class
My neighbor invited me to
A long time ago
Struggles in deep drifting snow
Hungry gray wolf hunts
While in doorframe with melting snow I pray.
My pale face hides inside my hooded coat.
I whisper weak a word grasping for grace.
But feel silence gripping around my throat.
Wanting to leave I hold my frostbit hand,
And in mid air it hangs frozen and white.
Why do I want to hug this ancient man?
I turn and gaze at blowing snow behind;
I feel a wolf howling his breath is close.
The door opens and warmth whirls me around;
My fatherís hair is white as morning snow.
His nail scarred wrists hand me his golden crown.
Beside His hearth my pasty skin warms red.
The wolf trots off in search of other dead.
Prances playfully in snow
Reddish sparrows sing
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