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20 February 2013

He asked me a question...

...and then there was Silence.

Silence was met by the sleeping Cold.
Loneliness sighed - she sank to the floor;
Hope shattered, but gamely tried to keep his feet.

Shackled, they sang.
They sang to the Silence,
they sang the Cold awake,
they sang their tears to ice.

Hard, so hard, they armored themselves;
wrapped in frost and pain,
waiting for warmth, waiting for another song.

Also published here:

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