December
On a bleak-cold icy day,
When everything was white and grey,
When frost benumbed my hands,
I stumbled on a frozen lake,
That was tumulted with life and sand.
I put a step forward,
And then I sunk down,
To drink the exilir of happiness,
Abandoning my barbed crown.
Time tangled in ice lattice,
And I walked through the aisle of memories,
Of warmth and cold ,
Of basking in the sun,
In the freezing winters,
Of late december.
Of cold winds,
And Christmas lights,
Of carolings and bribes.
But now I am trammeled,
In a suburban house,
No one knocking at the door,
No one strutting around.
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Copyright © Curie Stark | Year Posted 2020
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