Winter is cold.
Can I fly?
On all that is hidden?
Am I lost,
In fountains
Of emerald leaves,
Toppling over glass
Gleaming cliffs?
All I am is summer,
Changing,
Passing,
And fickle.
I fall
Upon sand like
A frost under the sea.
And all I am
Is hidden
Under snow and cloud.
Winter is cold.
Can I be
A sun clouded over
For a while?
And shine again
With the summer?
Winter is cold.
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