Snow
The untimed snow rushed insulted against the glassed shoulders on the poster,
and they were made of paper, they were bare…
It cried, scalded, on the painted, colorful faces,
and they were made of paper, they were bare…
Its outraged tears transformed into tears of joy,
and through them they were still smiling,
not caring for the bitter cold,
in defiance of the delayed spring,
Because they knew,
It could not wash away their colors,
It could not cover their bare shoulders.
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