Poetry Journal January 16, 2024

 

 

The snow came, a thief over night to steal the hard edges of the world we live in, casting a shroud over our little world, pure at first, a comfortable blanket that over the hours turns dark, as life itself does, the birth of a year or a child still filled with innocence we soon lose as we learn to survive. She was right in telling us life isn’t fair, right and wrong are those illusions we live with so we do not have to admit the harsh reality that hides under this shroud of snow, a reality that soon reveals itself, even as we live on with the fantasy that all is still pure.

 

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