Solstice
So cold the mornings tend to be
So cold, so damp so dark.
The coming of the solstice when
Our lives seem grey and stark
So cold the snow drifts in the woods
So cold the howling gale
We shiver in the depths of night
Our hopes begin to pale
Yet solstice is the turning point
And time will surely run
Until the day we're greeted with
A renaissance of sun
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