Tom J. Mariani

Rookie (January 1948 / San Francisco, CA)

Frost

Frost covers fallen bridges,
As it does the ones that stand.
The whiteness settles overywhere.
It's gone when I touch your hand.

The morning is when we see the frost,
Yet we know it came the night before.
I've been awake, still it has come;
Quiet and cold to our locked door.

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