24 Hours
of new born ice on aged rock,melting, ever,
farther from mystic beginning
into vital flooding-life.
24 Hours of falling,
a cold blanket,
on every inch of stony street,
'til I wrapped up in the warmth of you
and fast became slush-you should have warned me-
and was shoveled away.
~Nia Rhein~
...Scribbled this on the bus ride home from a weekend trip to Edinburgh, Scotland. One day became unexpectedly wonderful-one of the [love]liest weekends of my life- and then ended, as these things always seem to do.
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