Would I were as steadfast be,
Arms gold puncture and envelop me,
And tender-taken breaths heat
wisps upon the air, remembering
summer's mornings there.
A whitened grey blanket,
This day willows sigh and whispers say,
Not as the green once trampled spoke to me
but as branches heavy broken in fantasy.
Come visit here a gaze upon the sight,
Come, captured cold and rapture light,
Crunched feet and fractured footholds move me,
And natures sleeping slopes are waves that undjulate to sooth me. EM
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