Tuesday, November 19, 2013

Late Dark

Wind threads a needle through my skin.
Or is it your lips I kiss in a dream?
The day went too slow, the night came quickly.
There were piles of leaves: leftover autumn.
Why did I believe you were my lost love?
I wanted only you to melt my snow.

(20 November 2013)

copyright 2013 by Floyce Alexander

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