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I walk alone with the night
wondering thoughts of another day,
wearing the shoes my life adores
in a manner of lonely forays.
I send wishes to ambient moments
my hat warming sleeting rain,
as I take another patient step
into a world of self refrain.
I requisite sombre reasons
my hands deep in pocket filled dreams,
where night frees prisoners of daytime wishes
along these sidewalk seminal scenes.
Where is the call of the angel ?
Where is the hand of our scribe ?
Where is the path hidden by steps ?
Of this man who’s wanting to hide……..
©Nick Hawkins, all rights reserved 6/8/09