Glades in the Unreal

July 30, 2009
The glade in night,
the stars, they light,
the gentle shapes who glide,
across the tall grass,
q weightless mass,
a dragon, the lost sigh,
slowly, it will turn and twist,
across the land, and shifting mist,
a mystery by day,
for its soul, forevermore,
is kept, held at bay.

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