Whispers
Whispers
You are the winter of my life.
I claim you not out of fear of death,
but fear of living.
It is cold in my heart,
but you warm it.
My soul... is snowbound,
yet you breathe...
spring into me.
You are the piece,
that I can not let go of,
in the puzzle of life.
You do not fit,
but that matters little.
A. Foster,
Ann Foster
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