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// d.johnson

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christmas delivery;

[kovach]

[ a few days after christmas, daisy will find a small rolled up piece of paper, tied by simple string. it isn't signed with a name, but there's the lingering scent of cigarette smoke, along with the careful scribble of a poem: ]

Does the wind make you shiver
—does it?
does its howl make you cower
as you lift your head
in its wake?
Or does your own feet
shatter the chaos
that would leave you Trembling
finding your own strength
in honest skin