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This Risen Churlish Cold
This risen churlish cold
all cove like
lost in the rigging
crying out the humour
to dance the green lithe of light
as a figment of your mind
The inconsolables retain
lost memories flight
Winters club bastioned to the driving winds
Daffodils espied amongst the houseflies
once prudent pierce their aching hearts
Copyright ©
Antony Glaser
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