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Rowan Darcy Aug 2015
Sun-grey fragments of ***** ice,
Litter the street like scattered bones,
Puddles of rainbow shudder in translucent swirls,
Trailing color down the street,
Green glass shards of broken drink,
Glint vaguely in the gutter,
Sodden grey pulp of a wind blown flyer,
Melts slowly through the pavement,
And to top it all-
Falls an endless, white,
Snow.

— The End —