Stranger
In the hazy mist of autumn's rest,
Cold drawing with the sun abreast,
Damp creeping like a shadow beast,
The night’s cruel and cold, yet fuming jest.
Footsteps, at the very least,
Now break the silence, fond release,
A shadowed figure, walking by,
A memory, not all complete.
You stop, and turn, not all sure why,
Waiting for divine reply?
The stranger, redolent of.. what?
Memory will not comply.
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