the silhouettes of wintertime
scrape the silvered skies
and take from them the last of fall
the evening sun defies.
these remains of season’s gone
beg the frost that it denies
the deathly touch of year’s end
which means that all must die.
the silhouettes of wintertime
scrape the silvered skies
and take from them the last of fall
the evening sun defies.
these remains of season’s gone
beg the frost that it denies
the deathly touch of year’s end
which means that all must die.
so elegant
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