Morning At Last: There In The Snow
Morning at last: there in the snow
Your small blunt footprints come and go.
Night has left no more to show,
Not the candle, the half-drunk wine,
Or touching joy; only this sign
Of your life walking into mine.
But when they vanish with the rain
What morning woke to will remain
Whether as happiness or pain.
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Copyright 1997 ArtemisWorks