December 12

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December twelve,it was all going well

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December twelve,
it was all going well.
They plucked petals
of the winter flowers,
making crowns for each other;
"I love you," he whispered,
leaving a trail of soft kisses
along her cheeks and jaw.

He watched her fall asleep,
went to his art room,
the most filled with
finished and unfinished carvings.
Looked at them and smiled,
he was glad he made her.

❄️

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