Snow
He who has not seen the snow,
Has yet to glimpse real purity.
The million frozen glitters of truth
Forever in prematurity.
He who has not seen white’s world,
Has yet to sense pure souls.
And all the innocence of before
And prior to the tolls.
He who has not seen white’s tears,
Weeping in the greatest glory,
Has never been in beauty’s spell
Or the sweetest childhood story.
He who has not seen the snow,
Has never learned to clean,
Never felt real and forgiven,
Or wonder what it all can mean.
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