Winter is ColdA Poem by Inda
Green eyes staring,
The snow's burying The red roses, the violets too. As winter aproaches The poor wonder what they're going to do. everything's on sale, Compassion grows stale. Hands in pockets, Eyes in narrow sockets; Refusing to see The faithfull dying on bended knees. © 2014 IndaReviews
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5 Reviews Added on January 6, 2014 Last Updated on January 6, 2014 |

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