Sunday, October 3, 2010

October Evening

Tart wine on my tongue
the memory of warmth
in the cold autumn night
nearly gone.

I see myself
in the naked window
watching me,
ghost glaring
at my uncurtained face

dissolving in darkness
dim trees
whispering rumors
of impending winter.

I watch and wait.

The glowing clock,
my calm friend,
calls me off to bed

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