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We Wait

A day grayed around our
house, growing into
clouds, locking us inside.

The windows are matted
with the fog's hair,
allowing no light.

We get up late, trying
to breath the other's air.
We sit with blankets
to warm, but it's gray
today, and we wait
for the sun.

It leads to the 
quiet velvet of a womb.
It should shadow 
our eyes, lonely as before
the first light shoveled
us to the fire.

But when the burning out
is done, we may not
be alone, instead must face
what we have buried.

Our houses our sealed
before they burn down.
The clouds come
and everything grows still.

We wait for a breath
of air and for
our buried treasure.

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