Snow

Each silence you hear is lost in history.
Each sound is dead like the fish you ate
When animals were just inventing wine.
Children laugh like butterflies devoured by squirrels in the snow.

Ivan Peledov is a poet now living in Colorado. He likes to travel and to forget the places he has visited later. He has been recently published in Clockwise Cat, TXTOBJX, Unlikely Stories and Illuminations.

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