When morning wraps itself around our bones,
Thoughts weaving and crisscrossing everywhere,
There's still a dog to walk, and cold to breathe,
And mist to puncture into disrepair
And though the ambience be wet and flat,
The fire lit within will be enough
To give life one more day to prove its worth,
And give death one more day of flat rebuff
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Tagged: Tags Poetry
Published by Beleaguered Servant
Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.
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