Over the Horizon

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In the distance she sits,

Stooping on a stump.

Hidden behind a fog of cold.

Running, running, running.

Squinting you can see her,

Head held by gloved hands.

Shoulders slumped and sad,

Brown hair drooping in cascades down her back.

She is broken.

The drifting cold beckons,

The wind crying its loud cry.

Shrieking as it were.

She sits there,

Night breaking over the horizon.

Bitterness in her soul.

And you can see her,

Softly caving to her grief.

Your vision blurs with the tears,

That you envision sliding down,

Those cheeks.

Frozen drops of eternity,

Lost in the growing darkness.

In her solitude,

She has drawn you in.

Lost in her own shadow,

Hiding in the fog of her sorrow.

And she sits,

And you sit,

Interminably waiting.

Over the Horizon

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