Drinks in winter

Supping on sorrows.

Old, forgotten edglings

Clinging on like it was

All peace and laughter

For real.

Dizzied endings to

Fly-by nothing

Days.

Drive on, forth,

Decide!

No one will know

There's cracks inside.

'Cause mornings are clear and

Souls make good of

Cut-ringed smiles.

Absences spin out:

Acid at the back of my throat,

Old bruises I only see

In the shower.

Old leaves thrown to the 

Wind, sailing back in

Willowy, wafting circles.