Dark the clouds by Terry Cummings

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Undressed am I in storm clad ere
Tied against the winters ware
Faltered within sympathy stare
One abound by countless tare

Welcomed I, the fell kissed cheek
And pitied in my form so weak
I who summit at your peak
Held aloft, a body weak

Cower rather from their eyes
And mirrors with their cold despise
Quieting thoughts and voice of lies
In shadows, where I find my size

All is fog on serpents breath
And I am dined and I am death
I have all things in bereft
I am crept, I, absence theft

Hard the luminosity
Portrait, framed of malady
Dark the clouds and stirred the sea
When you are far removed from me