finds its way in.
not unlike you,
he doesn't need much room.
the smallest
of cracks or holes
serve well
for entry.
he's quiet in his
walk.
not a squeak, not
a sound
he makes
as he escapes the cold,
the wind,
a life he once knew.
he finds
warmth
in the straw bed
of an attic he'll call
home. maybe a loved
one will
join him too.
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