present bulb. I'm that opened, I'm a fused I'm a book which is never could I receive those w i s h e s as p r e s e n t s being 'no one', being an orphan, carrying an unnumbered age and being an unadressed verse to a p o e m. •The Santa In Us• No more the day was shining. The brightness on my face was shivering. Chilly winds were carrying the ringing sound of bells but my heart was searching for the feel of 'december' in the
