Old Chicago
i awakened to the flapping
of the broken screen door
as the snow man's nose vanished
the wind blew empty cartons ribbons
and boxes christmas lights grew dem
rusty chimes whispered behind
a wooden shack and rows of
old stone home's as winter rose
over the good tidings festive gatherings
meeting me at the street light
with no mittens i'd ask for a bit of sun
a warm breeze above winter's crisp
bitterness charming i suppose
putting my hands back in my pockets
Copyright © Yolanda Nicholsen | Year Posted 2013
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