Although they may not move with the titanate pink staff
They still labor on... lumbering forward to pass the hours
Fields of faded gray lay low before them
Waiting for the bracing winds to signal the end
For one long slumber
Until the bright break of light peeks through the lost winter skyline
Slide forward just an inch, just enough to fall on the fragrances
Or taste the crimson on the ice once again
A hard target of lessons learned
Far too numerous for feelings to flood backwards in time
(c) & (p) 2012 subconscious mind publication company
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