The cold has lost it's sting. The memories haven't just yet. And I am now afraid they'll carry on into the spring. The smog regularly wanders through our city slowing gliding over the tops of busses and trains and I am terrified that I will still have ghosts sinking cold cruel fingers into my mind when next come the rains. Rarely do I write simplistic refrains because no one (not even myself) wants to read what they've read or heard again and again But sometimes it's the simple things which remain when all else is gone.
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