Snow-Path

This is another poem I will let stand by itself. It was written late last night.

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I feel
The slightly melancholy drip
Of snowflakes falling on my lip;
I kiss the sorrows of the snow
Upon my face and let them go;
They form a path of ghostly white
Along the edges of the night,
A bridge between the dusk and dawn
Which only starlight walks upon,
And I.