standing wetly in
the winter cold,
waiting for someone
yet to love,
with my heart
withered and weary,
for i have been
pelt with wheat
in mockery.
in my adventure
i have sought
solace in solitude
for my wise and wishful
thinking has turn
wistful the wispy
dews so cold on me
but yet unfelt,
and yet am still
waiting for some
one to love.
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