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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1684110
A random poem that I found while cleaning out an old folder
When sorrows from the ashes rise,
Coursing through the midnight skies
To touch the tips of forlorn eaves,
Dancing with the fallen leaves
A great miracle happens there.
A beautiful maiden fair,
With tumbling locks of golden hair,
Bearing a most complacent stare,
Joins the dance and begins to sing.
Her music through the valley shall ring-
Until the dawn comes again,
Her beauty fleeing with the shadows.
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