The Heart of a Snow Fence
The pretense of her heart's wants could only beckon of those from faraway and lonely streets
Longing for these, and yet, her conscience begins to weep
Not unlike the sad song, long endured of a summer's snow fence
A sounding, laden with its own aired season mired in consequence
When it's an empty autumn wind that rushes through and past its weathered pickets
There starts a howling for this same cold, cold company soon to keep
The icy hold of a winter's snow, each yet to reap
Sent from my iPad
Copyright © David Archuletta | Year Posted 2015
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