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■ The oak
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A raven moon reflects upon each delicate strand
Where silk to touch wears fine to skin that glistens upon the nights rays and falls between her shoulder blades, She walks sweet the dignity that follows the feline moves, the soft step that upon the scented fragrance she displays the character of a fine goddess An image that holds the eyes glimmer to the sweet song that this night so softly bestows Her eyes, almonds dressed into the hazel reflections like ancient pools the pupils engage to the air swift upon a stare, holds a million promises of dreams Then fades into the night, within the city streets. Alisdaire O'Caoimph
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