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Wednesday, 10 July 2013

Snow

The Gentle touch as it drift down to his head,
and rest upon it like a soft warm bed.
Soft and pearly white,
it glow in the moon light.
White doesn't make it seem plain,
but as it starts to rain.
It crumbles to the slightest touch,
but doesn't suffer any pain.
Tomorrow is another day,
and the snow will come back to play.

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