Winter Magic
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Written on January 9, 2024
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On the still, cool twilight, falling,
Like softest feathers, gentle snow.
in the skies, rising high stars glow.
While the moon resists night’s calling.
On this frosty thought, my mind stirs,
Shy as the moment when death comes.
Will winter’s smile bare fear that numbs?
Or will love flow free as she purrs?
Copyright © Regina Mcintosh | Year Posted 2024
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