Poem:

They call it a place of care –

A world distinctly apart,

Where many a soul seems lost,

Where many a broken heart

Once earned its share of thrill;

But that was long ago,

Far back on a lofty hill.

They call it a place of love

Wherefrom there is no retreat,

Where the snow keeps piling high

On a one-way, dead-end street;

Where the sun does not intrude

On the chilly, twilight gloom

Of the winter’s solitude.