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Jun 2014
Eyes the color of burnt wood
Hair a glow of dying embers
Skin pricked and stiff --
No more blush,
No echoing heartbeat.
All foretokens of a fire long extinguished.

it started slowly --
growing inside, never stopping.
no matter temperatures warm
or blankets thick,
the ice blossomed like a spring flower.
flourishing with each shiver.
Carsyn Smith
Written by
Carsyn Smith  PA, USA
(PA, USA)   
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