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Poems of fairywaif (and other stuff)


She walked in the woods, quiet and keen. Her hands, stark against the dark of night, were held clenched at her sides. She wore a cloak, of dark of night. Her dress was made of pearls. Like her, nothing more than polished sand. She walked like a wind, cold and persistant. She walked to the twinkling lights of the town. fairywaif · Fri Jan 02, 2009 @ 09:40pm · 0 Comments


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