Poetry
Sequestered in Autumn with You bob mcneil
It matters less now that dark curtains veil our view. In isolation, days, elliptical as haiku, end quickly, yet our nights scroll to an epic length. The season dons dour hues that contrast with the carnival-celebratory shades, dancing to our upbeat bond. Long before the seasonal coldness, the world became frigid from fear. Under the covers, our oasis, we kiss and disregard every part of the outside.
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