Warmth at the end of the tunnel


A series of nothing but rhyme

Minutes of noise releasing time

No rhythm, no wine

 

A cold day of light

draining away

to a cold stew

 

freezing emotions as the wind blew

 

A pointless date named Sunday night

barren of purpose

 

once useful hours long disposable

rendered a vacuum by my memory you

 

As I anticipate the warmth

when you appear with a smile

a scent of you near

the minutes seem longer

 

until you break the time warp

with you

 

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