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I stare at the white ice crystals,
As they fall, so peacefully to the ground,
They travel so far, floating free,
When they land, never making a sound.

Like an artist painting a picture,
They are slowly turning everything, the color white,
They can shut down airports, and roadways,
With little effort or might.

The peaceful atmosphere they create,
Seems to catch and hypnotize, every eye around,
Bringing back memories to the older people,
As the children, run up the hill to slide back down.

The air temperature controls their destiny,
How long they will be in our town,
As the warmer rays of the sun, come our way,
They slowly melt, into the thawing ground.  


The Original: Tom Maxwell © 1/29/2022 AD
7:45 am
 Feb 2022 Zoe Mae
Diljeev
She was the moon
then the sun rose,
daylight looked on,
as he buried away
his dear prose,
a grave to mourn?
or a seed was sown?
She was the winter
then the sun rose,
all the blood bled,
all the tears shed,
manured into the land,
on which they both wed,
and in the deep ends lied
his dear prose.
The fog comes in the way of light
The leaves and flowers, cold
Do not despair
Their beauty in the mist veiled

The fog undulates, swells
Silent slant, rays of gold
Shine upon the crimson leaves
Untouched, the beauty unveiled
first purple crocus
on white snowy mountain land
breaking through for you.


Shell✨🐚
Haiku for a friend, lj
 Feb 2022 Zoe Mae
N
Do Not Answer
 Feb 2022 Zoe Mae
N
Can I pour this love I hold
for you into your open mouth?

Can I write you endless
love letters as long as I live?

Can I drown my sorrows
between your thighs?

Can I devour your scent till
you suffocate with pleasure?
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