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Snow
Oh, this is your beloved Snow whispering,
please, do not forsake me for that Prince Spring;
you love my snowflake caress on your cheek,
and my frozen kisses upon your red lips,
let me wrap my cold around you;
and take you to that winter wonderland you love !
Oh, dearest the air is no longer cold enough,
and I am fading . . . I will be gone away soon;
but, fear not I will return when north winds blow,
and you will run to your beloved Snow;
holding me in your hands and whispering sweet love,
and we will walk the frozen forests again !
Copyright ©
Constance La France
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