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Soles At The Hearth

Outside, just another frigid blizzard.
And so, as all our cold trekked roads run adrift,
our feet have come to this.

Frost meets our heat at the glass with mist.
Good to know the nightly fire inside
as we loosen our tongues

and melt.

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Saturday, November 19, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: home
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