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Jan 2019
My house of snow
has fallen moons
in its garden.

All these frozen curves
and mounds are
a white woman sleeping.

A swan lifts heavily
over quiet water.
For a moment, all is still.

Then we become those
we have lost
and live their borrowed lives.
Written by
Leslie Philibert  63/M/Germany
(63/M/Germany)   
114
   Fawn
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