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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