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Winter
September 9, 2010
It’s coming, I can feel it.
It hits your cheeks flushing them pink,
Numbing the tips of your fingers,
I see my breath,
hovering in the still,
Quiet...
Frigid...
Air.
Soon the grass will melt away
Covered thickly underneath the snow
The sun and clear blue skys,
Nothing more but a memory,
A distant dream,
That you hope
Will someday return
It’s coming, I can feel it.
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