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Aftermath Wind blown drifts of mud-splattered snow, Pine boughs lean from the weight of melting ice. A single glitter of tinsel shimmers, naked in the absence of glowing lights. Balsam needles,once a vibrant green fall in sprinkles of dried,yellow remains. Boxes swathed in glorious scenes lie in a heap of bitter/sweet refrains. Crumpled,discarded wrappings of red,gold bleed on the banks of freshly fallen white. A dull gray sky hovers in the damp air, drifting in the shadows of fading sight. Hopes and dreams of the promising season have flourished,or faltered, in it's demise. A poet searches for reason in the solitude of winter's sunrise. |
Additional Notes:
This is my first attempt at iambic pentameter in many years,as per an assignment for a local poetry group.
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