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Apr 2014
A bleached-snow vortexes my way.
A blemished goddess taunts its presence;
Her scoffing words dealt little damage for she resides in the storm;
Her sluggish enclosure resumes course.
Blinded by a flurry of misconception,
Her face has lost an ornament- and she reaches into the storm.
Ryan James Webb
Written by
Ryan James Webb  Plainfield, IL
(Plainfield, IL)   
562
 
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