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Published: 2006-03-19 02:38:02 +0000 UTC; Views: 28; Favourites: 0; Downloads: 0
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Description
Coppery-gold leaves swirlAlong cobblestone streets of
Stones put down long ago
By a masterful mason.
The memory withers, forgotten.
The street-light shines
But only in a small halo
Extending around it.
Creatures lurk in the darkness.
The falling crystals
Threaten the small glow of ember
And fades till it dies.
How can such an inhospitable place
Can be called a home?
Where is the life and laughter?
It is in those who still have hope
during the holiday seasons.