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The Door to December

The door to December
She hastens her breath

bringing popsicle cobwebs
that remind me of death;

and the fiddler, he plays by the tree,
Her breath an iced cold legacy.

This door to December
whistles a crepe hanging breeze

Her breath quickly killing
the branches off trees;

the fiddler sought street lamps to see,
perchancing a crowd's company.

That door to December
Solstice shuts in the end

She quickbolts both locks
locking out Her last friend;

two carolers and the fiddler stood three,
they were good! I think all would agree!

Thick door to December
drafts comprised of sorrowed fears,

and try as you might
you can't hold back your tears;

in the distance the lone fiddler plays, free
now, fiddling three-part harmony.

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
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Comments

Yes well written and it succeds.

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet Managing Directors, with Richard (themoonman)

just a list of irrelevant word.

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet Managing Directors, with Richard (themoonman)

but contracitory an incompresensible.

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet Managing Directors, with Richard (themoonman)

...the title is the name of a novel, and I used it as my title and I began writing. This winter was unexpectantly cruel as, I lost 3 female friends due to surprising circumstances, and death's untimely procurement.
Two of these women were partners romantic, and I couldn't help but wonder if, ironically.....maybe were they both "dieing" to get out of these trysts, with me? (Poor place to insert levity, I admit!); but as I wrote, I began seeing solstice's chill as some cold, entity that cared not, who was caught up, in Her wake.
Any clearer?
Thanx,
doc.

Neopoet is "newtriffic" !
...from the heart, or a reasonable faxcimile;
david a. goodwin #{:>{)} @==

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