Listen to the whistling songbirds lore
You feel nothing is wrong anymore
And yet on the whiteness of the snow
Can’t miss the signs of blood and gore
The quaintness in its blissful charm
Reassures there is no fear of harm
And yet comes floating with the wind
Voices wailing in frightened alarm
The sunshine sifting through the mist
Paints a picture of paramours’ tryst
And yet hidden in its alluring grace
Dark, deathly threats quietly exist
The stream flows into the wilderness
With a promise of a soothing caress
But within its sparkling water lies
A stealthy sinuous venomous mess
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