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Winter Holidays


They melted like snow in my hair,

then died like a cropped out plait.

My panting day is dreaming they're here,

my morning pursues them to stay.

 

Heaping snow in my cave of delight,

I hide some image there, a secret.

Then textbooks overcloud my sight

and swooping tests speed up to hit me.

 

Sweet holidays, I yearn to have you

in memories that branch like vines,

and in my winter herbarium keep you

like a miniature tear of ice.

 


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