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Nov 2016
In ancient meadows
of green velvet,
the gentle wind
whispers a melody
of lost love...

"On top of Old Pines,
all covered in
moonlit snow,
I lost my true lover,
For i was a bride no more"

-Sweetly singed the
maiden, voice of
nightingale echoes
down where the
blue river swiftly flows
Briar Rose
Written by
Briar Rose  F/Where the roses wilt
(F/Where the roses wilt)   
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