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From the window I see snow falling and that old friend darkness calling. Darkness embracing with its chilling arms and cold breath on my neck and in my dreams. The snow drifts heavy and clings to branches of the tall trees and white caps like old maids or dying giants aged. I stare and stare as the whiteness drifts and falls and beyond the trees the darkness ever the darkness beckoning to lie like old soldiers in Russian winter just to lie and die blanketed by snow. I smoke and watch the silent drift splitting the darkness with a sprinkle of white to brighten the night. Some days I want to drift white and pale drawn by darkness into that abyss and sense on my lips and brow that cold cold kiss.
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Aug 25, 2018
Aug 25, 2018 at 12:01 PM UTC
From the Window 1971
From the window I see snow falling and that old friend darkness calling. Darkness embracing with its chilling arms and cold breath on my neck and in my dreams. The snow drifts heavy and clings to branches of the tall trees and white caps like old maids or dying giants aged. I stare and stare as the whiteness drifts and falls and beyond the trees the darkness ever the darkness beckoning to lie like old soldiers in Russian winter just to lie and die blanketed by snow. I smoke and watch the silent drift splitting the darkness with a sprinkle of white to brighten the night. Some days I want to drift white and pale drawn by darkness into that abyss and sense on my lips and brow that cold cold kiss.
TerryCollett
Written by
Aug 25, 2018
Aug 25, 2018 at 12:01 PM UTC
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