Memory
As sleet beats the midnight morning,
Through ice specks and fallen leaves' dust,
With Winter's drought yet colored by
A phantasm's war in my skies.
Through ice specks and fallen leaves' dust,
The memory frozen on conscious ways;
A phantasm's war in my skies—
I scope its child in between us.
The memory frozen on conscious ways,
With Winter's drought yet colored by;
I scope its child in between us,
As sleet beats the midnight morning.
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