Winterwalk

The air is cold
The moon is bright
My fingertips
Are turning white
Enraptured by
The sky above
I must have dropped
My stupid glove
I’m on the porch
I squeeze the key
Can’t turn it, though
I have to pee
It’s not the entrance
I’d have chosen:
Demi-gloved
With trousers frozen
Sorry that
I had to ring
The bell so late
Can’t wait for spring

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About Michael

Silliness is good
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