the pocket knife

Is it not a foe who taunts — 
that in itself could be borne? 
Is it not an enemy's tirades— 
from them one could hide? 
Instead, an arrogant intimacy—
life's equal, companion & friend. 

What close companionship 
now scattered in the chill
of uncaring autumn winds;
from familiar paths once  
walked together in gardens
of fond affection and glee.




◄ you ARE

seasonal heart ►


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