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old winter man

have you ever seen winter?
he’s an old man, sitting in a corner
of a dimly lit social gathering,
everyone gathering, barking words
all falling short at his feet, his lips
sleep without much to say
soft wide eyes cold and white from all
of the broken hopes that rise
and settle into the arms on the moon
you sometimes feel his wistfulness
when a chill walks in and tries to
curl up to keep warm in the room

___
backdated post a day poem for October 13, 2017

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