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Monday, January 30

old is cold



Going north

No highways

Where snow

Is colder

And mountains

Too hard  to climb

Getting lost and

Tripping over frost

A great chance

Leaving behind

What was warm

Also called home

Cannot stop

I am going north.


__________________________________
First Chill of Winter by


6 comments:

Tolga said...

again a strong poem...istanbul is very cold:)
tolga

Anthony Duce said...

Like the poem. It has meaning for me. My mind goes north into the cold, a safe cabin in Canada, even when the rest of me is trapped.

steveroni said...

Cannot deal with the cold, whether it's the weather or the heart. Give me warm...every time. Melting-warmth.

Never could I believe what was taught--that hell is H O T. For me, hell 'must' be a cold place--no love, is the way I thought and believed.

Now, I wonder if there even IS that place, maybe unquenchable, unloved, 'fire of desire' in the burning soul.

CERTAINLY, Paradise was/is NOT in Antarctica.

Dulce, you write SO well on any topic, cold, hot, happy, or not!
Thank you, Sweeter.
Love and PEACE!

Brian Miller said...

travel on...leaving home...that is def sad...but in the undiscovered country you never know what adventures you might have...

Buddah Moskowitz said...

Like I tell my kids, if you don't find what you're looking for, you can always come home.

Poignant and good.

A Plain Observer said...

wherever you go, it will be home eventually