Now comes the time of ice and frost
Of wind and violence.
Of slow death and muted decay.
The time of scarves and gloves
And visual voices puffing and breaking through the ice.
Frigid lips and limbs
And ringing bells calling
Among commuters.
Ignored, acknowledged, and sometimes answered.
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I feel as though if I had you here
I would have no idea
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What else do you like? You must keep me sane at work.
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Do you have skype?
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NOPE.
I mean, don't expect to see my face but we could totally chat it up.
I have a headset! Just like at work.
Ha that's sad.
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Hurray!
Well nothing when there is a bag over it. No, I kid, I'm like 80% sure there is nothing wrong with my face.
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From the future,
Frank L.
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You are from the future! Amazing! How space age.
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