A Story

The Valley walls are thick
beneth this cresent moon
Along the pavement ice
He'll be walking soon
Darkness swallows shadows.
Midnight air is thick
The eyes of night are closing
both fear the morning,
lost in the loosing
He hears her cries
So softly he imposses
upon his fair maiden
lays his head upon her
heartbroken breast
She is glad to see him,
her arms to unfold him,
quietly till morning
while her husband is at rest.

by BladesongRaven Gehrig

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