Counting The Stars Of That Erstwhile Season

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With the cold night's perfume clinging to me,
and winter lurking behind the autumn-colored leaves,
I'm shadowed by the new moon's shooting stars,
the memories of an eternity all too transient
which now cradle my heart in a bed of thorns,
nestling ill-fated lovers hope and despair
with silence-tempered patience--
and I know, in some hours, the sun will rise and illuminate
the phantom evidence of my stalkers,
their cosmic dust and soft laughter,
but until then, I stare up at my ceiling,
counting the stars of that erstwhile season

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Grania This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Nov. 1, 2009 at 9:05 am
This is lovely.
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