Cold Beauty MAG

By Unknown, Unknown, Unknown

   Winter petals fall to the ground

As the white darkness closes about us.

Soft crunch of feet

And music of descending beauty,

The only sounds heard.

Our hair grows old,

Coats, damp.

You brush a flake

Out of your eye,

And mine feel wet too.

This is where I belong:

Winter, cold, snow, you.





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