The cold air swept my face,
and went over the lace,
of my summer cardigan.

The mountains were rock hard,
and snow-capped,

Though it was summer,
it was cold.
And I had known it was a bold
move to pick to wear a cardigan.

As I sat in the snow,
I felt the soft blow,
of the trees around and beside me.

The wind made me shiver,
and quiver.
Yet despite my discomfort,
it was so nice to see the snow.
And know,
that I was home at last.

-By Josephine Writes

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