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Rainy Night In Montreal

Heartache of angels
crying 
on the shoulder 
of Mother, 
on droopy skies,
of vanilla grey.
Fruits of light
dangle from trees,
Lighting 
the vanilla 
of the night.
Highways 
filled with horns,
stuck in traffic.
Everyone 
chats in whisper.
No piping 
from the whistler,
moving carts 
for hordes
in the caves,
rolling thousands
by minutes.
Plenty talk 
with paranoia
some read,
some knit,
while others swear.
Air is rusty 
and cold,
vapour like,
To the breathe 
and form ice.  
On a rainy night
in Montreal

Copyright © | Year Posted 2006




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Book: Reflection on the Important Things