The wind has turned cold
Softly, snow cascade
Upon naked trees.
In this weary night
Bathe me
with the warmth
Of your soul
And the passion
of your hands…
A.A. Jan 17, 2004
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Weary Night The wind has turned cold Softly, snow cascade Upon naked trees. In this weary night Bathe me with the warmth Of your soul And the passion of your hands… A.A. Jan 17, 2004 |
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