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Never did a cabin's heat
to me so distant seem,
as when the locked door did defeat
slumber in my dream.
When let in I may warm my hands
and hold embers hot tightly,
Let known as to understand
one soon remembers me.
In the shrieking chorus though
frigid winter rests at bay,
I still peer through the windows
as crowded you will stay.
©2005-2009 ~beyondthemist
:iconbeyondthemist:

Author's Comments

I'm probably just being stupid, but I feel sort of....bleg....

Comments


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:iconhiding-the-truth:
you are talented Ali.

I love this piece. :+fav:

--
It's come to a time and point in my life where I either go along with I believe will be the best financially secure route in life. Or follow my dream, despite how foolish it is.

I'll choose my dream. Would you?
:iconbeyondthemist:
We'll see, Robert.

--
"I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven." - Walt Whitman
:iconlittlerain:
I'm tired and cold right now so that poem made me feel a bit better. Mainly warm...and sleepy... :sleep:

--
:tea: Tea ...:tea:
:iconbeyondthemist:
That's sort of the point, but not quite....at least you enjoyed it. And you read them.

--
"I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven." - Walt Whitman

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October 28, 2005
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