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Apr 2015
The cave opens it's great crumbling maw,
streaks of light fall on the sparse green blades,
which dot the floor,
mushrooms push forth from the ground,
like fingers reaching to air,
the gurgling of a stream,
dances along a riverbed path,
paradise enclosed,
by earthen walls and canopy,
the glen lit by diffused and dappled sun.
Chris Beausire
Written by
Chris Beausire  The Shire
(The Shire)   
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