Snow-Globe
Topped with auburn-golden hairs,
she wanders through the thicket wood.
Tugs and hassles with the hood,
of the husky coat she wears,
with not the slightest thoughts or cares.
The snow, it falls, and sets the mood,
for evening’s love, oh! Now she’ll brood.
Alas! An answer to her prayers.
Daily through these woods he seeks,
a girl to love, and hug, and hold.
Across the way, their eyes meet and stand still
for what seems like weeks!
Taken; by one another, they grow old,
upon the windowsill.
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