I saw them high,
In azure skies,
Their pointed patterns,
Drifting past,
Into the South.

Behind them blew,
The Winter winds,
Dissipating the pipe smoke,
Past the swaying limbs,
Of auburn trees.

Such fond memories,
Of synchronized steps,
And buttoned coats,
With woven caps,
Pulled over stinging ears.

I zip my jacket,
Move my numbed toes,
Pull close the blanket,
Around my shoulders,
And find extra room.

I tap out the ashes.

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