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The Window

13 Mar
all of life is poetry
a speckled oblique poem
the window is the picture frame
that calls the eye to roam

the sullen silent evergreens
sinister, serene
preaching self-reliance
but conceal mendacity

Fallen leaves dead yellow-brown
swirl littered on the road
their timbrel song, their aging dream
that failed to unfold

the needled pine stares blackly down
frigid to release
because the winter howl is near
the munificent decrease

the time on earth is scraping
a chalk talk screeched on gray
for decline must have its way
the foul stench of decay

pieces rot off crushed to dust
into the icy mud
the frenzy of the dance of death
poisons every blood

all of life is poetry
the hard-fought blistered poem
the window is my picture frame
to bring the message home

 
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Posted by on March 13, 2022 in Poetry

 

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