WINTER’S PATH
Bleak wish is winter’s path.
The flat of its grey blade
Knocks us senseless.
Long months, we huddle
Half dreaming here.
Things will return to how they were,
Is a truth and a lie.
Though there are those
That shall never know.
The long wind has died down now.
The river’s roar returns to whisper.
—
simonhlilly 
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