Wednesday, January 11, 2017

Hands full of snow

You have forgotten, of course, as the dearest friends will,
the loss I spoke of those long years ago, and thats as it should be,
I know — yet I still remember, myself, and it’s like a lantern
you hold to see my hands full of snow — light streams
through winter dreams’ glow, and as this letter
runs down, I love you more somehow.

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