Mon, 01/06/2020 - 15:36 -- IzayaO.

The beginning was steeped in snowy feeling.

The end was nearing set ablaze by a mind's

curious haze.


As I reach for Spring's maize I fall

upon Autum's days so I stop to give



All the while I miss the snowflakes.

This poem is about: 
Our world


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