The primordial mountain looms over
the discarded and desolate cabin
Where once warm log fires
sultry laughter and
good wine dwelt

Though the sockets of the hut appear empty
they have seen much
The walls remember everything
and the roof contains these long ago
memories within

The memories, though glorious
and poignant, authentic and languid
are however not enough to oppose
the austere, abrasive, disapproving
landscape of societal reality and constraints

The cabin should have relented some time ago
caved in, disintegrating under the spurn and neglect
but it remains, stands fast – stubborn and proud
refusing to let go of that last vestige of
Hope