5th January

It’s too late to build resolutions
so resolutely die for another year
life could be worse on this island
but it can be good, at most
even at its best – it’s no West coast
and I never saw the leaves fall
I never saw frost on the floor
not in the South, but in the middle
my feet froze, my hands numb
it’s a compromise
sparing me the memories
the sickness of the North
but not lending me the safety
or the warmth of the West


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Filed under Poetry

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