Walking the moonless street
Where receding snows, reveal
The hubris of the night,
I am caught by the sad reflections
Of a soiled pane.

I am not ready to repent,
Nor regret the passing.
I stand transfixed,
In the silent reverie of my thoughts,
Indifferent to the melting snows,
That mirror the world of bending light.

There are no tears worth possessing
That are not earned by indifference.
But by the joy of longing,
And no kisses are of any use
Except those freely given.

And yet the glassy cogitation,
Reminds me of that other time
That has coiled about me,
Feeding on the transient despair,
That envelopes the downtrodden.

The fading shadows of an erstwhile life
Combined with the waning light,
Dissolve the pretence of absolution.
But hope, that caustic dream of freedom,
Whispers in my ear of better days.


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