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A bird sits alone,
In the forest of Vive
Its delicate whisper,
Another does heed
They flutter through trees,
In a tango of attraction
Intricate flight heats;
And ignites their passion
But one does leave;
And one gives heartfelt chase
A true hopeless romantic,
Lost in the forest's wake.
Paenitentia watches alone in the forest.

— The End —