The Road

I just remembered it being cold;
Cold and grey
There were no new stories to be told,
Only memories some may portray
In these woods the only gift-
The transiency of life itself
They used to count the days on shift,
'Might be November- I lost track myself
If this is not the word of god,
Then god has never spoke
But I just remembered it being cold;
Cold and grey

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