Rebecca Phoenix


Winter's Kindness

The eyes of Winter are icy stars, and his voice a loud and calming wind. His cloak is a flurry of white, his arms are the bare glittering tree branches. He arrives at my door every December, waiting for me to greet him. He then kisses my face with frost, sweet, sweet frost. Then, as Spring raises her jealous head, her blonde hair flutters violently

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