Creative
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The woods in the winter and the foxprints in the snow

Is where the truth goes sleeping
It's where the cold wind blows

The moss comes up creeping and the birds all wake up slow
It's where the truth comes springing
From the frozen earth below
RebelFox · 36-40, F
Mmmm I can smell this moment 🖤 feel it on my cheeks 😊

 
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