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The spring is not yet in the air.

But honestly, I do not care.

I will happily enjoy the snow.

Shut inside, no place to go.

Give me a blanket and a book.

I’ll sit in my chair. In my little nook.

There’s nothing more I would desire.

Than to read next to a roaring fire.

No matter what, seasons change.

So my life, I’ll rearrange.

Each and every single time.

But for me, it’s winter that’s sublime.

Poetry Written By:

Eryn Dunbar ©️