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Wednesday 13 May 2015

Poetry Post

The Hounds of Winter

I wake --
They snap at my heels,
Pressing noses to my cheek,
Chilling my bones.
Their
Breath escapes in clouds,
Icy spots track their paws:
The Hounds of Winter are
On the prowl, feasting on
Warmth and hope before
Slinking into shadows and
Waiting for the first frost.

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