Old Rag Mountain

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Old Rag Mountain

The mist
Silky smooth, white
Casts a cool blanket over
The autumn trees and grassy fields
Valley
Crunching
The frozen ground
Covered in a layer of frost
Cool wind tickles my skin gently
White breath
Icy
Crystals
Flow from my mouth
Are cast up into the air
Like angles flying upward to
Heaven
A bird
On a branch, cold
Sings magical songs, soothing
Closing your eyes, true ambiance
Relax
Standing
On the cold rock
High above the orange valley
I turn away from the beauty
Regret





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