Where rainbows recline along fog-laden hills
and slip under swift flowing streams,
where icicles drip into heavenly spills
to revive a dry thirst for lost dreams,
a sacred asylum from binding regrets,
a time and a place for rebirth,
a spiritual passage, a chance to forget,
rekindle new hope, renew worth,
like a daffodil raising its head to the sky
in spite of the lingering frost,
there, rooted to freedom, one heart learns to fly
there, the burden of winter is lost.
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