Bent branches

Every little drop
Turns into a snowflake.
The problem is that
They are still within me.
Every memory hurts
When it is reminded of sadness
Of not having been told
The happiness wades so fast.
When will I see again
The hot summersun touch my eyes?
When will I feel again
Soft hair embrace my cheeks.
There is no more wine
That can make me drunk.
I wish it could extinguish
Tears of the future afront.

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