What I hate about winters,
Is the laziness of the blanket;
lying there like a guilty dog,
Surrounding legs like anklet.
Even the passion of couple cannot,
Overcome the promise of its warm solitude;
Lovers are happy to share beds,
But struggles with the blanket's attitude.
The more sincere will simply snatch it,
The other one will froze in cold, until having any clue;
Who knew a blanket too would make me choose,
Between an honest me and warmer you.
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