Non-Erotic PoetryWhat curse...This WinterWhat Curse...This Winter
Like a drowning man,
Clinging to wreckage
Winter refuses to let go.
Its icy fingers pull, grasp
Pry every door and window
Crystal frost on every pane.
Days grow ever longer now
Nights wrapped in cold, wind
Fitful sun hides at dawn
Snow still lies waist deep
In the forest, on the fields
What magic, what curse
What winter...Is this.
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