steady's my sad face.
Sorrow's rest my gaze
merely to sit still
long enough ...have I
looked on; past many
moving motionless
faces I muse
over,
the cold chill.
-will kill...the surface
of time; where all looks
lost, yet who can say
when spring will come forth?
After such lonely
nights leave- the desert
rose up, desolate
dry lands- alive once
more,
I asked silently
in a whispered prayer.
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