Adrianne Quinlan


Coping

When by chance we meet at the line and
Northern winds dip the eerie lake to freezing,
You chat of bomb blasts and lost innocence.
And when you think yourself unseen, the deadly
Spray mists thorny skeletons that merely sleep,
Doing its terrible work while winter masks
Latent beauty's dying.

And when the freeze relents and the landscape

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