The Darkest Place
The fall comes early to frost covered souls
bound in damp, worn wool blankets
barefoot wanderings
over cold birch branches, sticks,
crack covered ground
thorns, thistles, briars
scratch, pierce the skin
tug at the coverings
lay bare
the naked heart
to face the hollow cold
without purpose
only a ceaseless longing
alone.
Copyright © Jack Bowman | Year Posted 2014
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