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Post by Ivan Carswell on Nov 9, 2007 22:40:01 GMT -5
In these early days before the sun has risen high enough to light your nascent life, its crescent moon invites your every mood; early days delighting rendezvous’ in easy flights of modest turpitude. You’re young; your beauty but a budding rose whose bloom will pale the stars, and angels shall exalt the way your smile enhanced their skies. You’re young; you ride a tiger’s hungry eyes in shards of brittle light, glitter with the sights and sounds exciting through the warming night – you’re young my spirit daughter born in argent true, and sing we will with praising words these eulogies we’ve fondly learned for you... © 9 November 2007, I. D. Carswell
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Post by Bernard Alain on Nov 10, 2007 0:37:56 GMT -5
liking this Ivan, the title really sets the mood for this, I'll be coming back for a closer read.
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