near the factory,
along the road, a bruised set
of clouds
upon them.
cheaply made
of wood and stone,
small yellow lights
puddle out
from short windows.
a working
family
no doubt.
an old car in driveway,
the squared yard
to hang
the clothes, a dog
of course.
a chimney full of smoke.
and a wreathe
upon the door.
where there's love,
there is always hope.
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