I have never seen a snow bank,
Nor have I ever flown,
To any distant place or time,
I have not always known.
Upon my inner eye I find,
Images in repeat,
Filled of where I long to be,
Yet can not move thy feet.
Every lonely meager wind,
Invokes impatient will,
Toward all I can't envision,
Yet my heart does thrill.
Soul will not be silent,
No rest at all abound,
Until it follow's distant call,
And it's home is found.