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Cold and dark are the mornings
Trees all stark and bare
Birds are no longer singing
It's to cold to stand and stare.
Crisp clear nights, stars so bright
Frosty mornings do bring forth
Whilst we have been sleeping
Busy Jack Frost arrives from the north.
Patterns etched upon the windows
Roofs and gardens decorated white
Coldness of the bleak winter
Happens frequently over night.
All wrapped up warm and cosy
A speedy walk to take
Then back home to blazing fires
Hot chocolate and a piece of cake.
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