Safe sides

10:06 PM

Who knows, the fire that guilds that hearth might scorch.
The comfort those chairs suggest may fail to bear me up.
I dare not trust the feast I see, spread sumptuous on the table.
The laughter I hear that rattles the rafters may very well become my mockery.

I stay here in my shadow shroud, whisper 'better safe than sorry'. Yet longingly I linger long near the window's glow.
Alas, the safe side is always the outside. And it is getting cold.

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