Reverie
By butch
Along the wet hills sculpted in white alive in the fury of winter dreams captured alone the soul of me realization begin conscious travails in one breath gelid air into my lungs awakens remembrance of immature ardor long snowy days then nights seeking comfort and protection from icy nip guiding me toward the glory of riding tiny sled to the bottom of chaste slopes laughing in the wind....... Written December 31st, 2001 © on Dec 31 2001 12:21 PM PST 10 • 0
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"Along the wet hills..."