Though Snow Falls

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Though snow falls
And rain sheds upon the old tin roof
The wheels keep turning
His hands keep carving
Wooden trinkets his sweetheart will one day see
If peace comes again like the red wheel barrow
He used to wheel her in
Her song spills from the disk beneath the needle
Her voice fills the void
Of all things blue
He falters, his finger pricked by the soft blade
Of her heart and flesh
Buried beneath a withering cross
And a young willow tree.
 






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