House of scrap and singed,
nestled in morning snow
and abandoned.

Footprints found,
crouched on overpass wall
and breathing low waiting for the axe to fall.

Crashing pond will soon follow,
touch the ice and sit underneath
to be near light and wallow.

Gone from that place,
to become numb in the sun with
two sides lurking confession and grace.

#LucidWONDER

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