Roam of the nomadic snow gnome.

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Frozen bubbles and icycle grins

 

 Twinkling and silent, like hang gliding in space.

Sprinkling, tiny lights tingle then, slide down my face.

A bright, blanketing snow falls in a white, green embrace,

bestowing "Angel wing shawls" in a quite serene grace.

 

 A church, of a sort, for the little gnome sport.

A cathedral of the north or shaken snow globe resort.

A choir of trees sing in the snowy lords' court

of inspired symphonies for this Ice kings' consort.

 

 And above all, the Sky with his beneficent wink!

So in love, I just sigh at this winters' white wink...

a tear to an eye, as it's frost bite on the brink...

and fear, again, ...I... have gotten lost while I think...

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