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Nov 2015
the leaves turn as they fall
twisting on the breeze in a
dance of winters hand on my world
hurry along the path
each footfall scattering the leaves with a
dry rasping sound

winter cold the air harshly grasps at me
as landscape spread in brilliant white snowfall
makes a trial of this inevitable trek in morning light
my books and papers heavy if only in a worrying mind
scrawled there the first words of poetic heart
ill defined the weight of the matter at hand  
joyful poems of a true beauty lover
and my desire for her affections
this itself is the rub
winters hand
cannot write a warm thought

now all these years and poems later
my eyes open
my heart hearing
this new winters day fades into view
and still i struggle to cross the snowbound landscape
with the weight of a thousand words
with the self deception of a young heart believing
the promise of warm loves where hope springs eternal

the leaves turn
dance of winters hand on my world
mark john junor
Written by
mark john junor  59/M
(59/M)   
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