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■ The oak
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The day awakens
where those eyes so cast their view dress the world in their sweet allure then sweeps back upon the eyes That witness of perfection's jewel. I watch where the giggles gather hold you in the prism of a moment like a fine brocade that is rich in colour fills my horizons and dances back upon the soft tones of your voice. I see the gleam of the day there in your eyes that play so softly the delicate dream the haunting character of yesterday The promised wish of the morrow. Songs filter through the caressing undertones that draws the moment deeper holds us in the balance then sweeps past so fast That the day never holds enough. Alisdaire O'Caoimph
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