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View from a Window up High in the Night of the City

Colly and cold in the creeping winter night Hot breath steaming in the moon’s silver light The denizens don their down coats and knitted caps Shielding supple skin from the biting wind’s grasp Wrapped thoroughly tight from body to brain Thoughts clogged in the cold as a clotted vein The people take to their snow strewn streets Slipping on wet slush and solid ice sheets While I sit inside in self-imposed solitude I contemplate the company I conspire to elude But if I went to join the frozen-footed fray I'd fall and lay frozen Rotting away I'd die divinely and Spring would descend Dead and dessicated, My soul will ascend Deceased and derelict My body remains Devoured by Earth, And Death is renamed. (2013-2022)
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Written by
dean-allen
American
Published
Jun 7, 2013
Lines·Words
30·124
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