Saturday, January 14, 2017

in passing

they walk
alone, or in pairs
against
the woods, along
the lake.
dreary blue,
dreary grey,
the rain soaked day.
it's hard to lift
a head
and wave or say hello
to those who pass.
what grief
there is, what sorrow,
what reason
to be so quiet,
so alone, is unknown.

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