How dim the light in the morning through the last brown leaves
And the look of the limbs curled inwards, slumped low
How soft the heater blows those long, solemn notes
Like the sound of a car scraping down an icy road, it goes
How the clock ticked, doling out scenes through my window pane
How little there was left, but how I longed for the remains
very pretty
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Thank you Beth!
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Beautiful tone with wishful hope to be shared by all
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Hi Paulie and thank you! Appreciate the kind words…Bill
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Lovely. First poem I’ve read here.
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Thank you Jadi! I have more, problem is it’s harder to feel like they’re really complete, compared to normal slice of life posts. So be it, thanks for popping by. Nice to see you every Monday! Bill
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nice
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Thanks Robert
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