As Springtime Starts
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There are no roses in the snow,
when winter comes.
But the wind like sharpened thorns grow,
to beating drums.
The green shoots of spring fill our dreams,
as we slumber.
Below the white blanket new streams
slowly lumber.
Distant sparrow songs awaken
our lonely hearts.
Our frozen morass is shaken,
as springtime starts.
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MettaFysykyl Poetry 