Sunday, February 24, 2013

Aim of the arrow

I imagine this is fate
fighting against the vindictive winds.
Let the raw air fill your lungs.
Let the sleet sink in
to the heather gray hood.
Looking down
at the dark, wet spots
melding together
across the top of your boots.
You walk in the footsteps
of what remains
of my faded apparition.


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