January Whispers #6

 

January Whispers #6

Cars glide by on four rubber feet

Sliding like sleighs through the snow and the sleet.

Humming along, become hydroplane whispers

Misty murmurs ascending, grow crisper.

Fading away before the followers repeat.

I do not want to wet my rubber feet.

No whispered steps when I mush

Only the plop, plop, plop of sneakers in slush.

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