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Mar 2020
the windows have frosted over
shattering pinprick traffic lights
into stellar beams

teahouse tables pushed to the side
soft swing music floats overhead
we shed our coats and our inhibitions

clasped hands and an arm draped
softly on the small of my back
we stumble and laugh

snow falls in the night air
the room warms with music and joy
and we dance
A snapshot memory from the first snow, a night filled with music and friends.
Written by
KB
143
 
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