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Library |
The
Candle |
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| A flame flickers In the dying light, Licking the dusk. Teasing spiralling tendrils Of smoke With her golden tongue. She flirts with my desire In silent dance With velvet shadows. Her supple warmth Weaving hypnotic replies, Naked and unashamed In carefree abandon. Waxen jewels run Dripping cold One upon another, Whispers set in time, As she sways above Within a halo of promises, Hopes and dreams. |
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The Candle © Susan
Harris 2005
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