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cold is the night
when comfort shuns and biting winds blow biting cold so that shelter is taken taken where ever you go glass windows glass door inside a warmth and glow i will have the pastry then i will have some coffee and i will compose my soul in the waning night |
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very good write, lets the reader have a clear image. I enjoyed this read.
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thank you
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really felt this poem- it was 17 degrees this morning, brrr
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