Descends The Snow
I want to show you something.
There are lines of lights in the city streets
And time stops moving
Softly muttered sounds, indistinguishable
From the branches and the leaves gently swaying
Your hands are cold, gently shaking...
The street lights glow misty and nostalgic
Now all the world is shut except for us
Out of an expanse of infinite darkness
and the coldness melts on our skin
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Comments about this poem (Descends The Snow by Mina Harker )
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