A white sheet covering a window,
In the wind, flowing.
A light collides,
With the white, becoming blinding.
...
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Mild offspring of a dark and sullen sire, whose modest form, so delicately fine was nursed in whirling storms and cradled in the winds................L
Delectible delight. Keep writing like this Sept. morn and your star will rise in the East. LOve is hidden in all delights of the soul.