In the wake of anger’s fire,
Confusion’s embers die.
Winter’s clarity reigns
over charred framing
and blackened foundation.
In the silent frost,
shall never anon
Friendship’s shelter
tender comforting sanctuary?
Yet another journal-type place for Darcy to rant, rave, and/or recuperate from the world.
Monday, January 1, 2007
Silent Frost
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