In the windswept northern wasteland
Five stormy miles above camp base
A climber suspended by hand
Will be soon lost without a trace

Whilst searching for stories untold
In the arctic barren remote
A blizzard began to unfold
As he found a grim anecdote

He shouted out three of the tales
With the hopes of finding his way
All were soon lost in the storm gales
No response, his grip gave away

Then he triggered the snow to slide
On accident during his fall
His skeleton easy to hide
Snow and bone both white in the squall

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