Winter ShatteringA Poem by The CynicSome words on the subject of spring.
The ice shattered
-broke- and with no smoke, no burned-out sun. Still, faces flattered -faces lit- by newfound light, no earthly s**t an orange tree to climb would be so fun -so high, its green leaves filter light-, so orange, filtered glass in spite -glass broken, so our lungs are free.
© 2010 The CynicAuthor's Note
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