Once, dropped to solid earth

in a late autumnal snowstorm;

desire carried no weight

as the wanting voice pitched

to deaf or muffled ears;

white wheels creaked

along unpaved local paths,

the curious child of time

beheld a sky in grey hues

and a single swaying rattle.


Later. Snow. Piles of snow.

Blue skies and a golden eye,

and the muffled sound of comfort.


Later later. Snowless worlds.

Blackened skies.

Rattled, without rattles.


Later later still. World-less worlds.

Invisible skies.

โ€ฆ withoutโ€ฆ


Now. A transient charm tickles

those lost and latent memories,

warnings of snow and ice

warms a frozen heart,

awakes a longing

โ€“ to return.

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