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Frozen Fingers

Frozen fingers reaching down Silvery tips pointed toward the ground No matter it long or short Breath of air determines its unjointed contort Grabbing the Sun’s light of day Glowing and gleaming with each flickering ray More than five fingers on its icy hand The reach of each extended by cold wet sand Tapping sound of drip, drip, drip Wiggling goodbye, while releasing a tired grip By: Richard J. Long February 2014

Copyright © | Year Posted 2014




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Book: Shattered Sighs