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Apr 2011
The tree's dark limbs twist
in waves of cool, damp, mist,
and beckon you through the dark.

No clear path lies ahead,
guided by only the things you dread,
walk on, into the dark.

Only a silent call,
the sound of the fall,
to greet you in the dark.

See the dark of the night,
in all it's great light,
and cherish its mystery.
Snow
Written by
Snow
461
 
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