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throughandon

will ever this
the cold reveal –
a plan
for early spring
buds are sleeping
safely
by the gate
dreams have been
forsaken
to seasons
come and gone –
morning swears
allegiances
to fate

to years behind
steps unknown –
for all I have another
remembered now
in silent lullabies
as echoes falling
tender –
curses none can hear
timbers weep
with every sweet
goodbye

. . .