Honeycomb Valley

By Lseeker

There is this cabin,

in a place called honeycomb valley.

Brought to my mind in all its wonder

upon the mountain valley sea.

Long time desolated

forgotten bare,

as the wind blows desperately

through the valley tare.

Ice cold, the snowy peak

looms close by.

Licking lips

cold dry.

It is a memory fond beyond.

A day that I spent dreaming.

With love lust close by

gleaming.

Just a small place

amongst the rocks and forest tree,

a lone structure long time

in its history.

I’m not sure what called forth

this memory not so old.

The mystery of the whipping wind,

washing cold.

Yet wrapped in fondness,

a memory mends untold.

And tonight, when I parked my jeep

upon the hill over looking a city in fog.

My mind washed over

with memory's log.

Places I have been,

places dreamed.

Places that to the eye never ends,

flowing over the tree’s of golden green.

Still standing in memories lane,

I over look my city like a window stain.

In reverence of nature's wonder,

and sorrow in man’s plunder.

But the key turns in the ignition switch,

as I ready to ride off to end the night.

But the moment will last forever bewitched.

As I catch through the fog,

a lone star shining bright.

North it sits clearly

shining through the foggy haze.

And my heart is awakened,

in passion's blaze.

There is still a hope in me.

And in the lone star of the north,

I am able to cope,

in tear-stricken glee.

I know I’m not beyond or above.

I know I’m not gone,

but perhaps beloved.

It’s a start of a beginning’s end.

A hand strongly and kindly to lend…

And as for the cabin valley’s memory?

It will always stay firmly.