Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Lost

Move slowly, as quiet as possible behind trees,
Hidden.
Yearn for the city that's so far behind me now,
On this cold afternoon in January
Breaks in the trees above me show the
nasty, cold weather.
Wind that sweeps you off your feet
A dark man,
Darker than any winter night
Stands above me.
Am I mistaken?
You may be next.

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