Moon Maiden.
The night came crisply into view, and clad the green in frosted dressas silence touched the nether hours between their shades of loneliness,while far away the drifting day had realised that soon to...
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Such a pleasure to read Keith. This gorgeous poem flows like melted butter over a hot pancake, and petals floating on a tormented river like glimmerng shards of Summer snow that twinkle in the...
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Keith, I so agree with Mr. Leslie that this poem is incredibly beautiful. He is always giving me fits about discussing food in my stories and I just read about hot butter melting on pancakes. I love...
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