| Always this winter child,
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| December’s sun sits low against the sky
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| Cold light on frozen fields,
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| The cattle in their stable lowing.
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| When two walked this winter road,
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| Ten thousand miles seemed nothing to us then,
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| Now one walks with heavy tread
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| The space between their footsteps slowing
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| All day the snow did fall,
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| What’s left of the day is close drawn in,
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| I speak your name as if you’d answer me,
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| But the silence of the snow is deafening
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| How well do I recall our arguments,
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| Our logic owed no debts or recompense,
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| Philosophy and faith were ghosts
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| That we would chase until
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| The gates of heaven were broken
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| But something makes me turn, I don’t know,
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| To see another’s footsteps there in the snow,
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| I smile to myself and then I wonder why it is You only cross my mind in winter |