Sunday, January 20, 2019

012019c


Come sit by the fire, old man


Back from the grave,
wearing a brown cloak of leaves,
he shuffles stiffly through the town,
head down.
He’s not seeking a lover, or vengeance,
he’s not seeking anything at all,
but there he is,
and we let him in
because no one should be out in the cold
on this late-October night.

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