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Winter Whispers

You Haven't Stirred

``All human unhappiness comes from not knowing how to stay quietly in a room.'' - Blaise Pascal

You sit alone a long time in the dusk

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until at last the embers start to smolder.

You haven't stirred. The fire hasn't died.

Only the hour now is growing older.

Sweetened, you watch the ashes turn to love....

A woolen shawl brushes against your arm:

Wordlessly she settles at your side.

Solitude waits to be shared in a winter room.

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