Snow - Poem by Lance Larsen
Pure water from the heavens condenses,
A snowflake is born!
The atmosphere molds its body,
Yet, toxically tarnishes perfection.
Continually drawn by forces rushing downward,
As if time is of the essence,
To deliver its message.
It falls to complete the circle.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye