Photo by Ilona Veres on Unsplash
Lips so cold they’re blue,
crisp snow beneath numbing feet,
through tall trees you beam.
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More stories from Olivia Rose and writers in Poets and other communities.
Lips so cold they’re blue,
crisp snow beneath numbing feet,
through tall trees you beam.
More stories from Olivia Rose and writers in Poets and other communities.
Comments (1)
Nice job.