Tempest

Waiting
he arrives
confidently wrestles
frozen sheets.

Silence.
Long walk
to search existence.
Where? Stop in such a place.
Let us sense the world without pollution.

At the top of the stairs
slippers. Still.
Ghosts take room
where empty exists.
Feel the breeze brush
against the feet.

In the end
remains
trusted lover
cascade.

Poetry

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