Cold winter
morning
Forsaken
cars at the lot
Sparrows
picking crumbs
A little
boy’s drawing
Already
frays at the folds
In dead
granny’s purse
Brook’s
filling again
But
mountains keep their snow caps
There!
Skylark’s soaring
Snow already
gone
Snowdrops
looking at the world
Where’s the
romantic?
Scratching
the windscreen
Cough,
cough, cough into the dark
Days getting
longer
.
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