no matter the smile the vacant, distant stare can be unsettling
when snow gathers on the incinerator door the past has moved on
it’s an icy grip that paints the window with frost so delicately
winter settles in blanketing all equally and without conscience
as the city hum grows a moment appears above and all is quiet
we take it lightly the responsibility and rarely stop first
even standing still there can be inspiration to get out and roam
once a barrier the river has been conquered and is forgotten
all that’s left over after the best part is gone is the memory
where the trail divides we can each go our own way or travel as one
Have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
