by Paul Curtis
12/02/2010 / Poetry
But softly the myriad snow flakes fall
These infinite flakes of purest white
Like pure white down of angels wings
Floating gently from heavens height
But this is no heaven sent delight
This thing of beauty that cruelly lingers
For harshly touched is the naked earth
When touched by winters icy fingers
I am a fifty something family man with a passion for writing and I draw inspiration from those around me.
paul.curtis1956 @ btinternet.com
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