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Sep 2013
Your embrace, the sweet taste of hot mulled cider
touching upon my poetic soul like burning embers

Scent of sun's ripplings upon ocean's salted clean air
I hear a soft babbling brook, aside a majestic tower

A rhyme sung out in epical tunes of yesteryear
calling upon idyllic temptation's imagination

Swept away in the grasp of imperfect rapture,
zealous release of poetry's tenderhearted bliss
Frieda P
Written by
Frieda P
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   --- and Jack
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