The solitude still stands as a cementing phase
but maybe the peace is near
for I have prayed and hoped and cried alike
but maybe the future is still dear.
The trucks don't stop, the sparrows don't either
I am left in this room to type,
the winds have fallen to the traps of autumn
the winter is but lurking near.
I have cared and loved and resented in this time,
and have been cared for and loved and hated too
but the love is weakened and the spite calmed
the peace perhaps soon shall be found.
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