Poem -

The Frost

Frost paints my window today, 
As it has many times before. 
But never twice the same; 
Sometimes less, sometimes more, 
Etching pictures on the pane. 
  
But wait!  Here comes the sun. 
The frost retreats and colors appear. 
It may only last today 
But for now my windows clear, 
Whether it returns tomorrow I cannot say 

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