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Breathing

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Breath of alabaster frost

Billows up like willow flowers loft. 

A barren tree's embossed 

Unto the scenery when 

Snow flakes make

Its tendrils pillow soft again.

The End
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Tad_Winslow You're currently reading the poem Breathing, which was posted on Jan 22, 2010 by Tad_Winslow.

This is a collaborative poem.

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