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Dec 2020
in the wisps of mist
stroking the curves
of a sleeping mountain
I hear a call

husky tones
siphoned off
by a cold wind
mocking

I see you still
as a filtered moon
drifts over my lashes
quivering

like the scent of you
as we dance
skin to skin
close
eleanor prince
Written by
eleanor prince  Australia
(Australia)   
  2.2k
         irinia, Pradeep, Nishu Mathur, Dolores, B L Costello and 79 others
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