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Poem #115

The snow is covering the hills in serenity
and the lost souls are leaving footprints in it.

They aren’t doing it to ruin the white peace,
they are doing it because they don’t want to
be forgotten. If they get more lost they hope
that someone will follow the prints and find them.

Is there a home waiting for them tonight?
A fire to keep them warm, another person to
warm their soul or are they just wandering around,
looking for something to keep them going tonight.

Maybe it will be a cigarette donated by a stranger
or the last drop of wine from the bottom of the cup.

The snowflakes are twisting and turning, making
love to the wind. Maybe that is the entertainment
the lost souls need tonight, let’s just hope it doesn’t
freeze them to the core, let’s hope they find a warm light.

13 replies on “Poem #115”

Sometimes I feel as if- I was one of those snowflakes, that did fall from unseen places, only to be seen however briefly melting away before her very eyes when I prefer she blindly and simple degust who I am before I succumb to her warmth…of her hands.

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