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Winter Snow

A light gray blanket covers the sky.
The anticipation rises, though the temperature drops.
Flurries begin to swirl down, and spirits, to fly.
All are gazing upward, wishing this never stopped.

Coats are drawn closer; scarves pulled tight.
Cameras are flashing; oh, what a wonderful sight.
Though as the day closes, it comes to an end.
The delicate snowflakes cease to descend.

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Mary Elizabeth Frye

Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

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