The sweetest nothings,
And the grandest of somethings,
Slip lips.
Hot breath, in the numbing chill,
Lingers, ever still.
In this eternal moment,
Somewhere between
Meeting and leaving
For all to see
And
None to notice
Save one!
A true believer,
In "the beautiful lie"
His heart will shatter, and scatter,
On this most frigid day
While the hoar's frost
Blooms full on the cottonwoods,
And dutch elm alike
All is dead...
Will spring never come?
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