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Jul 2012
She was as elegant as winds shadow.
In other words invisible
Her otter skin eyes pool in oak trees
Every ripple of leaves a whim. 
A tear.
She cries the dripping watercolors of fall
Her boughs dances the florescence of spring
Busy sprinters lick over her presented nuances
Passed by every moment
No one notices the silent hover of self made lush
Anymore.
I'd love some harsh criticisms please :)
Hallie Bear
Written by
Hallie Bear
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