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All my images - including base, evolutions and final results - and poetry are prohibited from commercial use.
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** Lost Christmas **
Under the weight of frost,
I rise, suspended,
a breath between ground and sky:
lost mistletoes.
Outside, bells are ringing,
their sound weak,
a fading ripple through
the glass.
Here, in this fragile sphere,
I am unseen, untouched—
only the quiet of waiting
in the silent night.
The snow falls, soft and slow,
shattered dreams in its wake,
its cold touch…
fleeting.
I will return,
when the chill no longer stings.
With love, © Aífe