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| Last night she danced to the cold touch of the moon, swaying to the ebb and flow of tides. Dreaming of silence. And darkness. And ease. The sun shone today, hot and searching as a lover's touch. She stood by the stream (a secret place), face raised, arms reaching hungry for caress. Dancing to the sound of thoughts that weave and circle in solitary rhythms, as the sun touched, and sought, and warmed, soft dreaming skin. |
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| Day and Night |
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