Should I fall asleep and never waken — but what if that has already happened, and this life I have lived, and am living still, is but an instant of the dreamy outcome?
Old Man Winter
Daylight spilling from his tattered sack
takes all night to reach the ground.
I’m a penny on a railroad track.
Poems, Slightly Used, November 26, 2010
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Categories: Poems, Slightly Used