Winter poem

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First it’s the wind that fills your lungs with cold air
A brisk breeze that whips around

Beckoning you to walk faster
Wrap your coat tighter
Retrace your footsteps home

Then it’s the trees
Lonely and bare
Whisper to you of lost love
A stark reminder of how long ago summer was  


Following the trees is the melody
Or the absence thereof
The only birds who stay
Are weak and their songs are as melancholy as the rain


The rain
Is beautiful in its own way
Here it doesn’t snow much
Or at all for that matter
So we have the rain
To lull us to sleep

And the cold winds keep swirling
Through the threadbare trees
Winter is the home of
rain and memories









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