The fawn folded up it's legs and fell into a swoon... or was that sleeping?
...drifted off to the place where the song birds are weeping... for the rattle in their chests and the hum across the wire. says the Spring, she woke up dead (with a broken back and note that read "Maybe").
The swan sang himself to sleep, crying over his transistor...
Shivered by a slow burn, unaware the lake was icing over... sent the letter with a robin's blush and pony apprehension expecting it might return like a mighty appaloosa.
In a lazy looping hand, he'd written the words, "Yes, No, Maybe?"
Ears twitched the air to hear a distant transistor radio. But the signal dropped off as the clouds rolled in to cover over the clearing.
The fawn watched the sky for a hazy silhouette of white on white...
Blinked his lids for the snowflakes falling... wishing he'd said "Yes"... wish upon a wishing he'd said "Yes".
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