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Lyn-Purcell Sep 2017
Winterfly of moonlit dreams.
With wisps of smoke, and coiling wings.
Snow drop falls.
On crisp brown leaves.
At the snap of a twig,
You rise from ash to sea of stars.
The sunlight dances on the fresh coat of ice.
Based on a lucid dream I had as a Winterbutterfly.

— The End —