The crisp white snow,
Painted along the very ground,
The wind still as can be,
Dare not to ever make a sound,
You say at your porch,
Queen of your very throne,
Ruler of the still calm pond,
The best that has ever been known,
The roads glistening with glaze,
Shinning through your face,
Reading your very thoughts,
Alike those on a bookcase,
As I walked through the chill air,
I never ceased, and you thought "why?",
Not once did I think of your future,
As the stars had pass us by.
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