January hearts
underneath the leaded sky
the rollered cold lies dead . . .
wintered nights are weighted down
and dreary days we dread
dragging cold like anchor chain . . .
the trudging people creep
icicles hang on haggard hearts
like pain that they must keep . . .
The winter of 1979
the rollered cold lies dead . . .
wintered nights are weighted down
and dreary days we dread
dragging cold like anchor chain . . .
the trudging people creep
icicles hang on haggard hearts
like pain that they must keep . . .
The winter of 1979
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