Walking on the frozen lake James McGuire
I am walking on the frozen lake On top of the water, on top of the ice, on top of the snow And I am crying. Don’t ask, my tears are my own. As the tears freeze to my face on the frozen lake, I remember Dante shivering in the lowest circle, And laugh that I would remember Dante and think about literature now Since I am crying, but my mind won’t stay on one thing. Foot prints in the white snow that uncover the grey ice. Above are the bluffs, that have always been there And will always be there quiet and firm. And above those bluffs, bleak and hazed is the white sun Drowning in the grey clouds. Or maybe it is pressing through.
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