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A Poem

I wake
To a morning
Leeched of colour.

Winter.

I stand on the frigid grass
and I look at the leaves with their silvered underbellies
in the wintry dawn.
Their last show
Before cold rain descends.

They look like snow.

Inside,
I light a fire
And sacrifice a tree or two.

And I sit.

I look out at Winter
And at the logs with their
Bright liquid skin.
And my dreams file out,
One by one,
Until my soul stretches above my body.

I barely notice it go.

A Poem

pinkelephant

Joined February 2007

  • Artist
    Notes
  • Artwork Comments 14

Artwork Comments

  • Leia
  • Michael Douglass
  • Robert Knapman
  • pinkelephant
  • Damian
  • pinkelephant
  • Rebecca  Nicolandos
  • pinkelephant
  • chanel
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