Winter
my short and random poem
cold.
barren.
beautiful.
for just one season of the year,
the suns heart turns cold.
as if he has been betrayed by heat.
so he cries.
he cries little snowflakes.
each so beautiful and complex.
but then again,
we are finding beauty in the tears of another.
is that wrong?
winter.
cold.
barren.
beautiful.
-xx Anonymous #1
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