the dark clouds of winter
are hard
seeds lay dorment
inside
unsure of how to
blossom in the face
of sharp ice
and cold desolation
one day it will come for you
everyone speaks of love
and happiness
but the only thing i foresee
knocking at the door
are the winter's
naked branches shivering-
where the sun's song
is a distant memory that beckons
run away, be free
fly away, little bird
run, while it's not too late
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