The scene; a winter's blanket white
beneath magenta skies of night.
I walk alone my hood pulled tight
against the cold of JACK FROST's bite.
The deer in regal silouhette
not yoked to toy-filled sleigh as yet
strolled gracefully; no sign of fret
until the moment that our gaze met.
Both afraid to break the spell.
in perfect silence there we did dwell,
'til from a roof some snow then fell.
Dancer leapt into his flight
and seconds later was gone from sight;
but in the snow his hooves did write
a tale of magiec winter's night.
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