he was never
the first snow
of winter
a light dusting
of fat flakes
viewed with wonder
a celebration
in frozen beauty
bringing smiles
to anyone’s face
he is the third day
of a blizzard
draped in sullen gray
drifting banks
treacherous black ice
in poor visibility
on the finite edge
of a panic attack
he longed
oh so desperately
to be a spring morn
the light refracted
from drops of dew
a prismatic blossom
on burgeoning green
the chill faded
as warm winds blow
a gentle shower
forming on the horizon
Things relatable are always the most touching ive decided. Which leads me to many other disturbing thoughts. Heh. This is gorgeous though
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i see you as summer, EC, in all her vibrant glory
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