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Gabriel
Poems
Sep 2015
Cyclical
Snow drifts over the hills as if sand, differing by merely altered warmth inside a hand.
Icy frozen windows dripping away, not cold enough yet to last the day.
Snowmen melt like ice cream cones, just like the chunks of slush slide off of homes.
Precious water slowly trickles down drying streets, while the fog of sublimation makes a cycle complete.
Written by
Gabriel
40/M/Mile high
(40/M/Mile high)
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