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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Other · #1361325
The muse woke me the other night saying, "Get up bitch. We're writing." Who am I to argue?

Dreamt of her this winter's eve
Dreamt of sprightly, vibrant days
When the world was ours to take
And ne'er a care could come our way

Hand in hand, we run through forest
Bare feet trampling clods of earth
Until we lie upon its glory
And soak it in for all its worth

On our backs we lie and smile
Up at our most gracious guest
His light beaming all about us
through the branches, to our breasts

Gleefully, she rests her head
Upon my strong, light-hearted chest
My arms embrace her supple frame
One being, merged by warm caress

This being, not but she and I
This being, earth and sun and sky
All amalgamated nigh
But the love within our eyes

It was then that I awoke
Embraced by dark, caressed by cold
Mournfully, I shut my eyes
To sleep and wait for her to hold


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