once upon a time

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Web etched in whiteness.
Dead briars awaiting spring's renewal.
Cold, minus cold gripping the land.
Fog, endless fog in its smokey greyness .

All that is heard are thick soled boots.
Pushing through its silken void.
Unseen voices glide past
Carrying echoes of spring's renewal.
When once again dead briars embrace the springtime.
Now only lifeless housing estates wait.
Their windows shrouded in fog
Listening for crunching boots.
Spider thoughts of no wages
Winter limned in frost, spring seems so far away.

Depressing winter fog and frost.
Absent of sunlight to burn it all away.
Only the sound of working boots
Straying despairingly homewards.
No work, only minus cold, and freezing fog.

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