She stands firm and in isolation, In the extraordinary waters of the river, Sometime before the dawn, Purifying her spirit, Lost in the trees, And developing leaves, Feeling the moderate calming
The dazzling sun shone bright on her, She smiled at him again, “Good morning”, she said, Her eyes glimmering, That dazzled him instead. Who would have known, What a fateful day, Was upon
When did we grow up to be such beauteous young women? Was it while we were cycling around the park in the scorching June sun, Was it with all the bruising that we had begotten while clambering up
In the palette of my baby cousin, a small battle was once fought. An orange with a blue undertone and a vivid purple lay next to each other. Her intention was to paint an evening sky, but
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