Snow
By Leylia
Perfection in its finest form Is the unexpected winter storm, When fields of green that never knew The lovelines of frozen dew Find themselves quite suddenly Engulfed by sweetest purity. Perfection at its greatest height Is breath that comes in clouds of white, Drawing faces in the snow; People stop to say hello. Friendliness abounds today; Everyone's in love today. I feel that "sweet, euphoric high" Your form against the cloud-rimmed sky, To feel your frozen fingertips, The warmth I still find in your lips. I couldn't feel the cold at all, When in your arms I'd gladly fall. I know enough of love to say, You brought the snow with you that day.the "sweet, euphoric high" bit is borrowed from a poem by Doc Watson. this piece has been a long time coming, i just couldn't really find the words until now. there are likely to be many re-writes. thanks for reading. Written March 8th, 2002 © on Mar 08 2002 03:33 AM PST 0 • 8
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"Perfection in its finest form..."