Crisp Peaces

July 20, 2009
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the darkened road was soft
beaneath my feet , old and worn
so that it felt like a
tanned cloud od old stories
my dress billowed behind m,
my bonnet had been blown off my
head, hanging on by a thread,
'bout my neck
my mantle draped on my shoulders,
the crisp blows drowning my face
still, i stride on
and when i at last arrive
my skin was set afire by the the
simple love of having him
in my vision
my heart, sending a haze of gold
warmth through my body
flowing through me like a
dreamy stream
his hand brushed atop mine, a
that gave me an eternity of
love and peace

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