He watched her lie through
pane glass,
Sighed, collapsed at last and
drew his own.
She lay submissive in the snow,
like yesterday,
Just like tomorrow, crafting angels
made of bone.
“The Loneliness” was printed in Salem Cemetery, No. 6 of Inwood Indiana. Pick up the paperback from Prolific Press; the stories and poems published online are free to read here.
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