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winter_gate-182x253

 

The winter comes late

The exile to much for my heart, to wait

on light of distant stars, to wait on

the first snow: footprints marked –

 

Long, long the passing

of days, the gate stands unmoved by

warmth of hand, so too my heart

that seeks you where sorrow’s

chamber stands

unbeating – in long hope

of flesh upon my brow: open once more

a season now, of your long night song, sung

beyond gate; behind chamber door

– winter come, come

  once more

 

 

 

bkmackenzie

copyrighted 2008

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