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Nov 2016
I feel the cold air on my face
And hear our footsteps in the sand,
We've covered all this ground before--
Things aren't exactly as we planned.

You say you're not sure if you'll stay--
You seem inclined to go;
I say things might work out in time,
But then, its hard to know.

A feathery snowflake falls in your hair
And quickly disappears;
It hasn't happened exactly like that
In billions and billions of years.

Our talk turns to philosophy,
We subtle points expand;
Ideas from the depths emerge,
You gesture with your hand.

We walk on, wrapped in dialogue
Of faith and our uncertainty;
With snowflakes drifting by your face
At this point in eternity.
Written by
John Niederbuhl  NY State-Adirondack Mts
(NY State-Adirondack Mts)   
294
   kim
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