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Formed by angels
Unique onto their own
Blankets the ground
In a carpet of white
At the touch of a mage
Patterns appear
Softly floating
In the cold of night
Wind is its master
Slave to its whims
Crystals reflecting
The suns golden rays
Blinding in the brilliance
Of natures grace
In time gives way
To the rebirth of spring
Protecting the growth
Of dreams yet to be.
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