Winter
Like laced tear drops, The sky crys icy tears, Some seek the sun, But I like it here. Walking through branches, Over layed with snow, Hands deep in pockets, As the wind blows. Scattering the hay, Watching the steam rise, As the horses play, Beneath the December sky. The red Cardinal sits, It's feet on a limb. Calling to its mate, As she flies to join him. Watching my breath form, Like a crystal mist, Summer is great, But has nothing on this. Written December 28th, 2001 © on Dec 28 2001 12:13 AM PST, Phyllis Thompson 0 • 10
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"Like laced tear drops,..."