what is this heaven
that you should reach to me
some modern marley’s ghost
warning
(just that the veil is thin
on longest coldest nights
a snowscape
of when you fell?)
or a gentle messenger
sent to wake me
from selfish dream—
roasted meat, mulled wine
hot fire
It happens that way sometimes, no?
(And I wish I could live in that dream. :))
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And who even needs the roasted meat? 🙂
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