Tag: cold
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No Home
From leaf to leaflet, from little straws and clay / I made myself a pallet, built myself a home. / Now wicked breezes blow – the frosts are on their way, / now it’s wretchedness and woe — / driven from our nest.
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My Mama’s Snow
It may be a mistake / but my mama’s snow / was simply white / and not like the poetic take: / green, lilac, or violet bright.
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He
Who is this he who is following us close / in your every step there? / Through every crack in a mouse hole / you feel his cold watching stare…
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Little Hands
Today my life came to an end / Ekh! To hell with such a life as I am living! / I saw blue children, little hands outstretched / begging something to be given…