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When the Air has the Feel of Snow

I can still fly.

Look up in anticipation,
And remember gray skies.

Before Santa's sleigh,
Or the Midnight Moon,
Trusted hands tossed me high.

Coat, hat, mittens, bundled thick,
Snowflakes swirling round,

How I flew then.

Balloons, birds, kites, planes,
Were no match for daddy's great arms,
Hurling me toward the stars.

I can still fly.

When the air has the feel of snow

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