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Mar 2013
Winter leaves a trace of frostbitten memories.
Don't speak to me of spring,
without closure.
A winter romance is not a summer fling.

When I ask her for warmth
she hands me a dying man
who won't make it through the season.
Chloe Sayre
Written by
Chloe Sayre  NJ
(NJ)   
605
     Rhodora, Chloe Sayre and Timothy
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