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Jan 2018
The pine trees sag.
Cushioned in the oh so very warm comfort.
Of the freshly fallen snow.
And, I walk.
Along the banks of a half frozen river.
Idolizing my isolation.
Engulfed in a familiar cold.
That I can bear.
For such a view.
Written by
Nolan Bucsis  34/M/Somewhere in Canada
(34/M/Somewhere in Canada)   
66
     --- and Glassmuncher
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