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Red Brush
Poems
Jul 2018
Winter's End
In icy winds, the leaves rustle.
In whispers hoarse they lament
How the nights would soon be quiet;
They'd never again know spring's scent.
#winter
#spring
#seasons
#mourning
#grief
#death
#short
#loss
#night
#nature
Written by
Red Brush
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Salmabanu Hatim
and
Molly
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