Winters wonderful trees layered in crisp white snow
The sun shines on the freashly fallen snow giving it a bright glow
the sharp icicals drip from the cealing and land on my toe removing the feeling
my marshmallows drown in my steaming hot chocolate there screams getting fainter by the minute
this poem is almost ending your probbably sad to go but the moral of this story is Don't Eat Yellow Snow
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