On A Walk in October

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A man stood over a beast of a heaven.
A woman stood over a palace of snow

It is as though mirrors are hung in my head,
Glancing off,
In so many shades,
With words.
Falling in shadows until, overlying,
Light by light,
In so many winds,
Is laid.

There is no music here.
There is no want or hope.
There is no giving or receiving of gifts.
But only is left here
The wasps that orbit circles in the rain
And pigeons flying round on winter's day.





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