A trench coat wrinkled with age;

rusted buckle, miles sewn to the breast.

Lost loves covered by a thick sleeve.


A roaring dungeon of dark winds;

angry lions scrapping heavens floor.

Deep pocketed hands; fingers clenched

toward unmerciful giants.


Shutters rattle; the song of emptiness.

Branches creak like aged knees; the end

of prayers feel cold.


A wintered steel cold breath licked

his lips; gray is his favorite color.







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