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Stuck At A Station

Rating: 4.0

Winter has arrived, we’re in the depths of November
And yet the lines won't come as they should in this frost,
This frost I love, the frost that painted me a thousand words
Last winter – sparkling fields, shimmering leaves,
Everything gleaming, all white and true.
They were new.
New poetry, that’s what it was.

But the frost has moved from roads and trees
To my hand, my brain.

We are the train that’s broken down at the station.
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Olivia Simone 06 December 2005

Gorgeous poem. you are a very talented poet. I love your imagery. I feel as though i've stepped in with you on that november day.

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Ivy Christou 24 November 2005

wow Sean... excellent work! I especially liked the first part.. 'Last winter – sparkling fields, shimmering leaves, Everything gleaming, all white and true. They were new. New poetry, that’s what it was.' well done! HBH

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