Non-Erotic PoetryPostcard
In an unsettled wind
from fires that burn deep within,
the smoke from beyond
the fence
drifts over ill-tended grave.
Snowflakes hang
in the breeze,
as ash though bone
trees,
alight, melt on my face.
How I wish you were here
with me right now.
How I wish
you were here
with me.
Right now
a wreath of unsett'ling wind.
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English
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