For some of the poems we had to be prompted by certain things, in this case it was an image.

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The hard hitting blizzard

I drop off my gloves

Ice forming like scales on a lizard

I miss my mother’s love

Somewhere out there…

A sanctuary

The only place with fresh air

Where I won’t breathe this cold toxic air daily

Finally a cave

Out of the blizzards reach

If it doesn’t calm I will try to be brave

But that’s all just a figure of speech


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