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Oct 2019
A chilled tired man,

Cheated of warmth,
Hungering comfort.

Darker and heavier skies bleed the city of light,
The first specks of rain hit the tired, sun fried, foot worn pavements
And I feel summer sink into my socked ankles.

Archibald Brown, man around town, locks up his sunshade,
The wind lifts rotting fence panels like discarded betting slips
And I smell winter rising in my rattling chest.

Rain on the window, like Mercury drops on a mirror,
Through clouded milk bottle glasses I peer at grey sky and flat green trees,
And I sense Summers end.

Crying now,
Longing for Spring.
Written by
Stephen Moore  M
(M)   
97
 
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