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gri_2003_m_46_b05_f12_040

Transcribers

  1. 68702111 - LightLili
  2. 69362070 - altheist
  3. 69595329 - Zooniverse2017
  4. 70153221 - neko
  5. WINNER - 71121367 - Preacher357
  6. 71225195 - ChaoticK

68702111 - LightLili

THIS CHRISTMAS AND NEXT YEAR
to SYLVIA

Mistletoe shadows
On your face send
lions to their doom.
Ah! soft cage
I

The book of the year is open.

The course of the wintered year
Ends on the seasonal page.

Bemused summer is words;
Spring is in there, somewhere:
Autumn is tired, having come early.

Without reading I remember
This year as episodes of you,
Without or with, May or September.

What I hope for the next page
Is a book of, only, you.

O the January of it, open.

The house is the head
of a lion.
It is warm.
It is thoughtful.

69362070 - altheist

THIS CHRISTMAS AND NEXT YEAR
For SYLVIA

Mistletoe Shadows
On your lore send
Lions to their doom.
Ah! Soft cage

I

The book of the year is open.

The course of wintered year
Ends on the seasonal page.

Bemused summer is wordy;
Spring is in there, somewhere:
Autumn is tired, having came early.

Without reading I remember
The year as episodes of you,
Without or with, May Or September.

What I hope for the next page
Is a book of, only, you.

O the January of it, open.

The house is the head
Of a lion.
It is warm.
It is thoughtful.

69595329 - Zooniverse2017

THIS CHRISTMAS AND NEXT YEAR
for SYLVIA

Mistletoe shadows
On your face send
lions to their doom.
Ah! soft cage

I

The book of the year is open.

The course of the wintered year
Ends on the seasonal rage.

Bemused summer is wordy;
Spring is in there, somewhere:
Autumn is tired, having come early.

Without reading I remember
The years as episodes of you,
Without or with, May or September

What I hope for the next page
Is a book of, only, you.

O the January of it, open.

The house is the head
of a lion.
it is warm.
It is thoughtful.

70153221 - neko

THIS CHRISTMAS AND NEXT YEAR
to SYLVIA
Mistletoe shadows
on your joce send
lions to their doom.
Ah! soft cage

The book of the year is open.
The course of the wintered year
Ends on the seasonal page.
Bemused summer is wordy;
Spring is in there, somewhere:
Autumn is tired, having come early.
Without reading I remember
The year as episodes of you,
Witlaus or with, May or September.
What I hope for on the next page
is a book of, only, you.
O the January of it, open.
The house is the head
of a lion.
It is warm.
It is thoughtful.

WINNER - 71121367 - Preacher357

THIS CHRISTMAS AND NEXT YEAR
for SYLVIA

Mistletoe shadows
On your face send
Lions to their doom.
Ah! soft cage

I
The book of the year is open.

The course of the wintered year
Ends on the seasonal page.

Bemused summer is wordy;
Spring is in there, somewhere:
Autumn is tired, having come early.

Without reading I remember
The year as episodes of you,
Without or with, May or September.

What I hope for the next page
Is a book of, only, you.

O the January of it, open.

The house is the head
Of a Lion.
It is warm.
It is thoughtful

71225195 - ChaoticK

THIS CHRISTMAS AND NEXT YEAR to SYLVIA
Mistletoe shadows
On your face send
lions to their doom.
Ah! soft cage
I

The book of the year is open.

The course of the wintered year
Ends on the seasonal page.

Bemused summer is wordy;
Spring is in there, somewhere:
Autumn is tired, having come early.

Without reading I remember
The year as episodes of you,
Without or with, May or September.

What I hope for the next page
is a book of, only, you.

O the January of it, open.

The house is the head
of a lion.
It is warm.
It is thoughtful.

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