It's funny sitting out
Where the weather
Reaches all the way to your skin
But everyone hides
Beneath another
Till the icy fingers
Weave their way inside
It's funny driving home
At the end
Watching as the feeble coals
Of a dying day
Are banked inside
Till even they leak and gutter
And scream into silence
Monday, September 14, 2009
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Standing on a Hillside Sometimes you look back on where you have been Past the cloud-fluffy daffodils bobbing and green Through the deep dar...
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