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Nov 2014
Somewhere, the trees are
heavy with a cottoning of snow,
and the morning sky is not
bleak blue but sleepy grey.

You are sitting at your window with your
book untouched on the unmade bed,
for the drifting flakes are far more
beautiful than any words I
could ever dream.
nomadpenguin
Written by
nomadpenguin  USA
(USA)   
408
     Lior Gavra and ---
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