A brisk breeze chills me
As goose bumps rise and the
Hairs on my neck
Stand at attention –
Saluting the gray, grim sky.
My feet crackle the lifeless leaves,
Buried under soft snow,
Concealing the dead
In cold memoriam.
The flakes fall, slowly
At first –
then
picking
up
speed.
One by one, then thousand by
Thousand.
Outnumbered, I walk –
Snowy solitude in wanton winter.















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