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She stands where autumn wind and lake collide,  
its whispers trace her curves in soft ballet.  
Her blouse pressed tight, it frames her quaking frame.  

A moan escapes; the love that she must abide,
as hair veils trembling lips that long to stay.  
The wild wind plays, yet stirs a deeper flame.  

Wind howls, her skirt rises, her heart inside,
its breath explores secrets bared to foreplay.  
Her chest revealed, she shivers, soft and tame.  

She opens wide, her body greets the skies,  
Waves repeat, with rhythm's gentle interplay.
The wind recedes; she calls her fleeting name.  

Her arms enfold the ache she cannot flee,  
a whispered ghost of love she cannot see.

— The End —