The Sleet Nymph 🏔
🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔
I see the Gliding of a sleet nymph
prancing down from the soft smogs,
What charm has it on the grey realm how it saunters so gaily,
The sleet nymph sits on the autumnal hedge,
Whispering fondness to the old brown cracks.
Her Snow is a smidgen of happiness and season.
That promises the best memoirs and reasons.
The heat shies away bowing to the frost flakes,
They kiss the ground with a fond embrace.
Snow like a moment moves swiftly with grace,
It's the elixir of eternity and a smile on our face.
🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔
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