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The air, so crisp and cold
cuts through the senses
like a sharpened razor,
and still loneliness prevails.

Not even the stark beauty
of this winter day
can wipe out my desire
to be with you again.
In all its fury and glory
winter cannot shut out
my memories of you.

So I stand within its clutches
waiting to be overcome
by the bitter cold
and the despair
within my heart.

K.Tate Jacoby
copyright November 1974

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