Raymond A. Foss Poems

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I feel the cold
closing in, seeping, oozing
slowly coming in
through the walls, the floor,
the panes of tempered glass
the cold, the damp, the tongues of winter
relentlessly striving, seeking
coming into the house
through the open doorways,
the seams, the cracks, the thin edges,
through the metal, the wood, the glass
seeking to come in,
where it is warm

December 2, 2008

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