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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. |