As you walked across the fields of snow
your scarlet coat was like the blood
of some tiny wounded animal.
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Since this is the only way I can get to you, WRITE SOME MORE.
Most times, a poem like this goes on and on and on, to boring death. But this one left me very hungry for more. Beautiful poem.
This is a voice from way back! I hope you respond. It would be good to catch up on these many years. Tony Woodcock