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Chloe Sayre
Poems
Mar 2013
Winter
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.
Written by
Chloe Sayre
NJ
(NJ)
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