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Cold Toes: Tired Feet
There's no heat in my house and these floors have teeth. Cold toes always pitter-patter best to the tune of winter blues anyway, if that's the ditty we've got to sing. Maybe this year I'll freeze half to death, then the holes in my socks and pockets can have at what's left. If it's so, rest my body to the weathering hymn of this hardwood's creaking. Until then, you can find me in bed, lover - even jump in. Just know a chill settled through your end, and I'm sorry these sheets are so thin with too few dollar bills to patch them.
By Jake Sierzega7 years ago in Poets