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Aug 2015
Our dancing sun awaits to gambol,
while wisps--bits like flakes of white to flutter.

As nature harmonizes fluidity in its parallels
the wishes of a whispered word tease the dawn.

Angels paths to sail—to follow
pull out the musings of a lovers’ longing.

The tube-ed strings are plucked,
above the royal hues humming sway and fro.
Wind-blown fields of golden, bow and spring,
souls to catch the light--a waxen candle.

Blush to softly tease the upturned smile,
trek the character of time’s hung past.
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