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Rated: E · Poetry · Environment · #1408308
I wrote this during a snowstorm
Standing on the hill
looking down,
I see myself,
as a child
on a sled.
The breeze cold against my cheek
as I fly across snow
giggling
and chilled.
To be a child again
wistfully thinking
© Copyright 2008 K. S. Wood (kelitadavis at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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