Longing For…


Across the river there is the halo of the shimmering moon hovers,
A door of an empty house, ideally dreaming,
No reason to burn, just to mark this spot as a battlefield,
Resigned to death by exposure to the elements,
It's limbs are warped,
Bent and broken by the moisture of the rain,
How dreadful the past year,
The night chill brings fourth chills,
Signs of seasons passing shows,
Snow slowly floats downward,
It's time to bid farewell,
Slowly covering it's warped corpse to erase it's existence.

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