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 Dec 2018 Scot
Raven Woodfort
The sky was in her
       eyes - blue with
clouds floating in her smile.
Her voice rushed
       of pines
in a breeze, her hair told of green meadows
  in the spring;
she scented of northern lights...

     And I knew I had met a wildflower.
To all those precious wildflowers out there.

— The End —