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The Evening

Snow for makeup and jewels,
and the cold winter breath,
You hold me tight against the storm,
Looking to the street light for answers.

A mystery of a chance meeting
Laying in bed alone and afraid
with a smile that creeps out of the pillow
and the sigh that pushes it back.

Hoping to be hopeful,
someday maybe escape the routine.
Run forever and never look back,
Stop your feet now. Take my hand.

Email: imtherealsanta@hotmail.com