Tuesday, December 20, 2005

New Years Eve Past

Dead Christmas trees run down the street.
Footprints crease the ice and sleet.
Laughter sounds out to the night.
Mouths wide open, eyes shine bright.
Pine needles cling to hair-bleached white,
And a wild mane, dark as night.
Midnight gone and long forgotten.
When glasses clinked and coats were brought in.
To a moment one cannot forget,
A time when you felt infinite.

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