Wintergewæde

November 16, 2017
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Lying under the now deceased oak tree that still shined,
And on the icy plains of Make Out Hill
Our haven frozen in time, icicles dangle from the branch and glistened
Her heartbeat brought warmth like the blankets we cosseted in
Under the black tree that tantalized our cherished memories.

Through the lucent light that engulfed the night sky by the city lights
Comes in a pale half crescent moon smiling at us,
Her lips were warm; feeding me life like a funnel ---
My cold, bony fingers placed against her very human hand;
How I would die -- kill for time to freeze like the hills.






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