Lonesome and Ambivalent: A Portrait

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One man sits on a bench.
Not a soul is around.

The riverside sunset
acquiesces into twilight.

The waning crescent moon is a lantern.
Then, come the stars.

Red leaves seem to be spread
against the blue-violet night sky.

Winter’s crisp coldness
seems to frost the sky.

There is a disturbing lack of snow.

 

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