Leave Me Here
Bone Awl
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buried under snow
our lives may slow
it is strange
the colors we turn
the once found
a man still alive
sleeping in the snow
when they woke him
he begged, "leave me here."
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what you find
is not yours
touch it and
it may spoil
snow is silver at dusk
snow is gold at dawn
you were red at dusk
now completely blue