I left home to find some firewood though
It is painful enough to survive frost, I'd rather wait for the browning
How do I loathe thee, cold?
untamed horses, and wild dreams, in drunk thoughts and my gamblings
One for know, one for show,
Fishing in lakes, for catch and throw
Watch the starry night Goh and fade into the morning glow
The only sounds are of righteous crickets
Engulfed by a loudly silent blanket of now
Come morning the fire would die
I would have found my will somehow
If you chance upon me, find me dead with a half eaten bowl of mutton curry
Like a lamb lay somewhere in wait of crows
Know I hope I left no Grief, measured or otherwise
Move on along leaving my two notched spatula alone.
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