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*snow*
Under this tree, a powdery white.
As I sit on this bench, such a beautiful sight.
I watch as it falls, so icy and cold.
Each one is unique, or so I am told.
The children make angels, while they laugh and they play.
Oh what could be better than a snowy kind of day?!
Every year at this time, without ceasing or end...
It visits me here, like an old, long-lost friend.
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