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The Step
You are the ancient step that tore
About my pelting footsteps on ice mesh ground
Fierce hood-whipping splinters of December thrash
Above thin scarves and cashmere gloves
I was about to turn and conclude the walk
For fingers sprawling outward, inward; numbed
Not be the casual musk of a season's death watch
But by momentary inspiration.
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Web Author: Jeff King (aka Darkwind)
Copyright ©1999-2004 by Jeff King (aka Darkwind) - All Rights Reserved
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