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Come away from the place Where laughter echoesThrough sun on silken strands, And haunts worn by small feetStill patter.
Come where shadows grow longer,Trees taller,And all things olderMore softly, more clearly Still shimmer.
Cross over with me this altarWithout sound or breathOr movement.Take somethingAnd leave something behind.
Posted at 11:10 PM in creatures, poetry | Permalink
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