Man Watches January
a trek of stumbles
through forgetless snow.
can such grief
ever thaw off my face?
sins, frozen here,
scars from harsh failures,
winter buries them,
pure in its icy citadel.
they remain, somehow,
somewhere deep below.
not a single one is dead.
far away, a single white rabbit
snowshoes over the tombs.
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10/25/25 mods... miserable poem
7/9/24 ... mods
11/30/23 ... lots of mods
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