360*tree

take my hand and climb with me…

two hundred and sixty eight degrees: ‘born to brave…’

Clementines ~ Bishop Allen

two hundred and sixty eight

I remember you best

to tears, tall trees

and a funeral

~

trench coat, boots

and a broken

nose

rhyming ridiculous

~

in the icy

grip

of winter

~

the way we

began

~

like an anchor, you were

a blessing

in grief

*

Let us raise this glass of wine…

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This entry was posted on June 25, 2013 by in Winter and tagged , , , , , , , .

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