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"edale" poems
The frosty air tastes like water. Your hand is warm. Our cheeks are bright red. Your laughter's a storm.
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Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 5:17 AM UTC
Arby
Edale
The frosty air tastes like water. Your hand is warm. Our cheeks are bright red. Your laughter's a storm.
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