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Outside my window the snow is white,
a winter mist I see so bright.
I hear through chrystals snow on snow,
a distant engine of a plow.

The chrystals falling from the sky,
in a way which I can't tell you why
On the ground there is heavy snow
the plow is getting nearer now

The window stitcks just like a stamp
against my fingers, cold and damp.
I see the sight of untouched snow,
I see the fountain of the plow.

The plow went by ten minutes ago
back is now a usable road
I hear through chrystals, snow on snow;
the distant engine of the plow
A poem which got to me during an english lesson in 7th grade some weeks ago.
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January 31, 2011
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