Melancholy

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We Saw This

We Saw This

down the damp-black streets
castled and cherried
walking away hard
hard as snow crust
signals went wrong
or died or turned
we crossed the road
beneath another day
another morning.
I stiffened with the wind.
I went home to summer,
glad of it.
Too rich, too bizare
murky morning
I turned to see how he ran;
absent-minded
flourished
listening.