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Apr 2015
Quickly come
Harshly rushing in
Flurries of inklings
Blow in through my pen

Slowly come
The unique flakes I know
Wisp around in my head
Creating drifts of snow

Forever come
These blizzards, suffice
Enticing my hand
To form sculptures of ice.
Jacob Traver
Written by
Jacob Traver  MD
(MD)   
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