The storm flickered & lighting strikes shot from a cloud. Right here, right now that was not quite the problem. Inside the house a voice sounded, weak & unsteady. Then, Some sniffling & tears. A single teardrop landed on the paper, As the person wrote "Follow me down to hunters north.." then more teardrops landed on the cold paper. The crying & sniffling grew louder, They finished the poem. The paper was thrown in a box to be kept safe, More sniffling & cries grew. Then nothing...