as I raised my eyes one cold winter morn’
to a forgotten page with ink there adorned
I gathered in all that faded wonder
from days long since passed under
though the light was weak as a ailing bird
onward I cast my gaze and my mind was stirred
so nicely I began to sip it, to lick it, to wit
as though it were a pricey bit, to grip
in that dim light where letters are shadowed
like a biscuit covered with gravy and smoke
my inner being awoke
to peel away a freezing mist
trying to steal daylights tryst