Raymond A. Foss Poems

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Corpses piled up on the curb
limbs becoming bare
in the winter air,
shadows of the needles fallen below
on the crystallized snow banks
grayed from the salt,
the sand of the cars, the trucks
Tinsel and icicles,
singing in the icy cold
A few still sentinels
upright in the snow
holding onto Christmas
while still perched as they were
in the warm houses
so few days ago

January 3, 2008

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