from my living room window, above my lilac’s purple blooms and between the welcome spread of a pair of oaks, a snow-capped mountain like a whipped dessert, is the view I lick, while below and surround
scratching for not just any old stone but the one that matches a perfect bouquet of flowers, the raven chooses his gift from the display in the sand and drops it at her ankles her turn to examine it
Oh, girl on a swing, soar into your sparkling day. I notice the algae in the pool needs shocking. I’ve declined my own treatment, though I’ll attack the enemies of my peaceful garden for all the littl
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