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Rated: E · Poetry · Nature · #2205386
A brief description of Winter
When the blizzard calls,
No one catches me-
So I fall, fall fall,
Far Gone,
In the prison of my rime...
Who will hear me this time,
As I whistle for help?

My blue lips can barely
Move and my frame is
Too light to pump any
More white blood to my veins.

If only someone would have caught me,
I could have melted in their warm embrace-
I could have touched their face...

As I whistle for help, I wonder,
Where did my twin go?
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2205386