The Man.

His clothes were soaked wet from cold.

His dirty curls were covered with white snow

And as he walked, a cold wind blew,

Like chisel upon his red cheeks 

Beside him, were dancing children 

They played with snow, teased him and did run 

And he laughed…

His smile, radiant like sun 

Around him, was warmth 

Soothing everyone who came by 

His touch was a furry blanket 

But, inside him was a perennial fire.

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