Six hundred Ten

Six hundred Ten
cold air hanged my breath low
morning light grazes the lips of the valley
flames of old see me through
a Brother and Sister near as ancient as the flames

Two stairs two steps to one more
frigid in light of summer days’
twitter birds banter to cousins south
of faded smirking friends that disappear from my eyes

Sleep surrenders a false hope sung stance
fired below placid glass and breath of nature’s tendril
which pierces my skin to remind me
i am not home yet.

Six hundred Ten

XtomJames

Joined November 2007

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610 poetry

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