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By galadrial Date: 2002 Nov 02 Comment on this Work [[2002.11.02.09.21.32498]] |
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Pull them from my hair, the rusty bits, saffron yellow, scarlett pieces of summer's glory caught in the strands you released with a practiced hand, just before you tumbled me into the sweet bed of autumn, and now the mist is chasing us back to a spare cabin graced by a wide hearth, and nothing on earth but we two, and the sweet taste of hot cider warm from your lips... |