I search for you in the hollow echoes
Of whispers fleeing;
Of moans from souls wandering aimlessly
Across me in the stillness of the hour
Every hour til I search for you
And find you in the damp and chill
Of winter’s bone, alive
But not quite
Breathing as fiercely
As to fight off muerte for vida;
Almost as if in great surrender
You yield in
To the lack of warmth
In empty spaces of vacancy
Where in the stillness of the hour
I had once watch you dreamt
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