a cold moon guides the falling snow
i wake with pen in hand, wine-heavy
no song drifts from the darkened masquerade
my heart knows no easy way
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the dead moon is burning
winter sky hangs scorched
my lips taste no wine
only falling rain
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maple leaves have gone home with the wind
dark birds have sung the leaves from my tree
winter's white mist sleeps on my floor
hiding my lover's fading steps

11/05/2006

Author's Note: the cold time.

Posted on 11/06/2006
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