365 Days of Poetry — Day 130

I will tell you stories of the lost and forgotten, but you will only recognize a few. There are no tales of dances and pumpkins; of slippers and munchkins; or happily-ever-after’s to choose. Horrid they aren’t though, no, they all end buried in snow. They are of the cold and the heartless; the bland and the artless; and none with a lyrical tune. As I said, bad they are not, for there are still princesses and laughter; giggles and chatter; and life after all’s said and through.

– Brittany Rose


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