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Nov 2016
Melodies of frozen harp,
                          Igniting the morning sky,
         when the Day comes, cold and sharp,
        played by Wind across the plains,
               harsh, Incisive, angry, biting
             like the Northen wolves fighting,
desperate with Trembling hunger
                snarls Echoing, blood on snow
                           Red on white - the winter woe.
TinyATuin
Written by
TinyATuin  czech republic
(czech republic)   
855
   Adasyev and PoetryJournal
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