My Jaundiced Sin

My jaundiced from seasoned sin.

imageedit_5_2761080462Could I pull the tattered paper down?

A hound dog, a dove of peace and a quail hustled by.

And, all I could do had been relieving my grief with a sigh.

An influx of vigils there in one self-determined space.

With a stretched out, battled scared, hand.

Pigment a bit red, more brown than white.

Black has been my favorite color…but something I know I would never fully understand.

imageedit_102_4742592811Slipping on mounded snow…a not gracious slip.

Just inches from the ground…strange but not a stranger…a friendly grip.

Another vigilante grounding my sorrows with a lift up.

I need not understand the gesture…no longer had the stranger been so strange.

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