B: Xxxxxiiii: Love Of Winter - Poem by Douglas Scotney
Whenever anyone says they love winter
I think of the old one about the heart growing fonder
and of them not having long to go,
their soul, close to its desire,
their heart grabbing for whatever it can get.
To cover there being no soul,
I think of the love of fire
and of what's in the bed.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
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Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You