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Archive for October, 2017

You Do It Wrong

I bid you, do not trip

On coattails, caught beneath

The bowers cool at noonday sun.

If you must go, I hope you run.

Hear then behind the frosted glass,

The voices dull, devoid of song.

If you find that love is hard, you do it wrong.

 

And there upon a hill

The toddlers play, the adults cry,

From sadness or from ice, I do not know.

Against a tombstone piles the snow.

There are no smiles,

We are not strong, but

If you find that love is hard, you do it wrong.

Image result for mount algonquin in winter

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