Wednesday, July 17, 2013

A cold, cold day
A bitterly bitter wind
The inquiring look
On the face of a cat
As I stride
Conquering the territory
Of the unconquered
The grinding mill
Covered in layers
of 100% wool
The label
on the back
Yet I'm chill to the bone
and my lips won't move
the words
are stuck
on my
chilly worn out
you need to
read my face
my eyes
my determined gaze
I am curious
about what you gather
and I am eager
to see it reflected back
in your stance

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