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the fires burned quickly
through the debris at the foot of our trees
soon to burn out
t’was winter despite the breeze
the ground was somewhat damp
kept under wraps by the cold
my walking stick confronting me
feeling my bones grow old

you waited for me to step
to inch but further out
I could hear you meet the rocks
on our river bank moving south
my breath unsteady then heavy
as the flames burnt to their end
I needed your warmth
your understanding
as I rounded the final bend