From Limbs of Thought
These silent pages, barren, white,
as still as any snow-filled night,
will come to life when dawn begins to breathe.
Then words, in fresh emotion caught,
like wind-blown leaves from limbs of thought,
drift down to paint the emptiness beneath.
In vivid colors, crisp and clean,
they whirl across the frozen scene
and circle in a poem like a wreath.
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