Edwin Cordero


Pine-Winter


I find myself lost without place to hide.
The pine-winter frost fails to justify
Where I'm at,
What I've lacked,
And those decisions that can't be taken back.

So, I stare and see the sound;
I hear a bristle
And turn around—
Christmas trees glisten,
As they're smitten
With unrequited love
Never to be found.

I'm left to ponder why,
Oh why,
I've never accustomed
To the ground.

Submitted: Tuesday, April 02, 2013

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