A Duet With Life

The next step in my poetic contemplations.
I write in my free time accross different styles and themes, sometimes there are reasons to what I write and sometimes there are not, but I always try to follow my inspiration.


44. When the air is cold

When the air is cold

And my hands are pale

I can see my scars,

Memories of small battles

Fought and won over the years,

In the end they disappear

When the sun warms my skin

But I know they are still there

And for as long as I keep

This souvenir of flesh and bone

I feel I can never truly fail;

The road is bumpy and slippery,

Sometimes I even lose sight of the trail,

But the river is never far

And I thirst for running water.

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