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Jul 2018
A shadow leaf sleeps in her abode facing north.
In the forgotten garden a litany streams, to coalesce with the flow of a river, shaping its way along the lost shores.
It is dusk. Vesper choirs chant softer than a shy breeze, the forest nightingale weeps without a sound.
For how long shall the story stay unvoiced?
She thinks of eternity.
Written by
Edera
  367
         ---, sue, Mark Tilford, ---, Fawn and 14 others
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