A call

The wind rattles my window
the rain clatters down
not seen the sun
for some days now

The land of trees
is darkened now
no green just black
their boles rear up

An echo from
the far northwest
from whence
these clouds have come

A voice now gone
from the Empire of Stone
reminds me of
the pale blue skies

The land of trees
I shall come back to
after returning
to the far northwest

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