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A Lost Poem From WinterThe pine is whispering, wavering as the soft cool winds finger's are breezing through it. The fir tree hardly glances staying majestic and thick. A bird trills its song maybe singing goodbye now that the cold has begun to linger a bit longer in the sky. Eyeing a flower pot, the plant within it crumpled down in its chilled defeat. The leafing of our autumn mistress almost complete. Glancing over at a second flower pot its growth still standing tall but, it too will bend when the snow begins to fall. Signs of life all around almost all stripped clean. Save only for the pine and fir dusted with crystalline flakes, evenly and underneath it all still remaining green. Found is a lost poem of winter (Yet, i welcome the inspiration of spring.) copyright2003surrealdancingpoetry Vote for this poem
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