Will love be true as December frost, or fickle and fall like the rose in June?

 My boy Rufus:


"December finds himself again a child
Even as he undergoes his age.
Cold and early darkness now descends,
Embracing sanctuaries of delight.
More and more he stares into the night,
Becoming less and less concerned with ends,
Emblem of the innocent as sage
Restored to wonder by what he must yield."
-  Nicholas Gordon





















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