it would
still be dark further west
she would
remember plum colored hills
benevolent,
cold and drunk
bones removed
from their hands
small trinkets
nestled in deep pockets
the memories
of declining charm
winds pushed
west to east
peaks
reflecting in wet eyes
she lived in
a glass amongst the ice
it would resurrect
in the morning
mist in
their mouths and frost on the foothills
they knew
this would happen
© 10.28.13 heather brager
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