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The GiftAs he stands silently and in awe The star shines brightly above him, Snow falls softly by him Gently grazing his face, The Christmas Trees surround him They are softly covered In a bed of white crisp snow, He holds tightly to his drum As he knows his time has come, His hands tremble As he begins to play The gentle music of the drum To soothe the soul of a king By Julia Vote for this poem
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