The wind blows hard
waves thunder ashore
snow patters
wet against the windows
Light is returning
from solstician gloom
but winter fights hard
to retain its icy grasp
The Window on the West
remains empty
She who knows all
patiently waits
The house on the shore
time bends you down
struggling on valiantly
where age ravages
Day drags by day
on the sloped street
where the circle decreases
as it goes round in time
I cannot retrieve
what has long since
been lost
hard though I try
The wind blows hard
the sheets of icy rain
lash the cobbled road
along which I stumble on
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