In the Cold Winter’s Night


Autumn spurns ice cream.

Had the tire tracks been just a dream.

Scratching with  four paws at the door.

They say, bad things happen to good people.

But I say, wicked is wicked.

Like candy from a candy store…there will always be more.

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The signs are still all around in this beat up town.

Rugged is the night, well soiled beaten boots, lonely and homeless…

ten speed bikers abound.

I had not known you but your death lingers in traces of waterfalls and fractured mills.

With innocence of voice could your youth ever be found?

I too get lost from time to time.

Woods shadow my heart…disfigure my mind.

Muddied snowfall calls from a vagrant timber.

Beneath a land of lost souls…I am not always sound.

 

 

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