White and Pure

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White and Pure

The air is soft and hard, on this January evening.
The wind blows harder and harder.
A chill goes through me, but I'll be fine under this tree.
Strong and sturdy, I'll be fine.
I'll sit and watch the snow fall all around me.
White and pure, I can't help but relate.
As I sit here, under this tree, day after day,
the snow begins to melt away.
Losing its body, its soul, losing its purity.
I can't help but relate.
Day by day things may change,
but my memories of that day will forever stay.

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If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry.

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) American poet.

Tiffany2010’s Poems (7)

Title Comments
Title Comments
White and Pure 0
Alive and Free 1
Forever. 0
Your Eyes Say It All. 0
I Know I Shouldn't 0
Leave 0
Sometimes I Wonder 0