On the roofs of houses
In a suburb
A mossy overgrown
Sentimental pipeline

Crossing from
Home to home
Shoots with the
Arrow of time

Christmas lights
And tiny fir trees
Fortresses, bastions,
And snowy top days

Moss is the turret
On a tower of a home
Ropes like rigging are
Beacons polychrome

Cast magic like
You read it
In ancient
Spell tomes

Snowflakes drifting down
Polychroma sound

Lights like the beacons
Of spotlights shining
Clouds like the puffy flak
Of a cold morning

Moss on the shingles of
A cozy little house
Glittery tinseling
Glowing like magma

Chilly air like egg nog
In a glass on a table
Broiled breath in the air
Vapor everywhere

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