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Torridon Croft - a poem

Updated: Apr 13, 2023

winds claw at the glass;

the old man reflected that

his life had been the same ⎯

looking out beyond the black moor

to an unspoken horizon,

unwitting

in its distance,

calling the dead from

their distant graves,

through blizzards

lost in memory,

pasts written

on lost fragments

like the patched sheepskin

that draws his slumbers on,

into the dream

of escape.



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