Young and thinking a name is forever. Fore after years snowblind the snow has settled and runnels down in icy blue flows and rivers past my feet, colding the memory in me. Yet the oldman can only smile. Fore that mountain of ice and snow has become this valley’s basin. A cold blue that warms me and dribbles me on tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow and ever on. Until another cold freezes me and you are long gone. For now or for always?