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Saturday, 3 March 2018

Pigeon Park

in the nadir of wintry isolation
frosted ash turns the city to stone   eerily quiet
numb   the homeless toss on frigid park benches
traverse solitude
quiet epiphanies in the rhythm of travel
as life catches up with itself
crescent moon evanesces 
in the cold sky
reborn each day
into the choice
to continue   


  1. Cynthia What can I tell ya but hey Beautiful!:}}}}}}}}}}}}