Reflections
Reflections of smoke
That provoke
Billowing shadows in front of the glass
Making it hard to pass
Through the windows a view
So covered with frost and ice
Making winter here precise
Cold winds cry out loud
The whistling forms a shroud
Around my domain
Where I am contained
While I sit and escape the moment
Watching the fire
That I admire
I am called to another place
Where I embrace
My book of dreams
Written out in streams
Of ink
And blink to see
What’s before me
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