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Winter

Cold winter days, always the holiday little kids praise.

Hot choclate by a fire with a nice book is all I desire.

This holiday is full of gay, before going to bed we tend to pray.

Santa will appear in the night, but he will be no where in sight.

Little kids wake up with such joy, the good ones getting their favorite toy.

The evening falls with a huge feast, we all toast to our deloved deceased.

Soon it will be off to bed

One good day never to dread.




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