the shadows long on the street
carpeted with the stubborn leaves
that have finally surrendered to the wind
winter yet again
this could be the last one
how many more will fate allow me?
no answer but silently creeping shadows
and steadily declining sun slipping through
the skeletal clutch of the dormant trees
all sound muffled under the chill blue backdrop
of the cold empty sky
Content (c) 2008-2011 Philip Milito.
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