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Writer's Winter

Periwinkle winter wind an icicle arena a mustered bold intensive soul inside this house I linger. To venture past my sunken gate To melt the fallen snow would endanger all that's candle lit and snag the shadow's flow. I'm married to this musty page, these words in sepia leak while the morning blows continuous the writer's stain takes seed. And if you see me weeping and if you see me sigh close the shutters, trap the darkness, winter winds are blowing nigh.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2005

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