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Sunday, October 4, 2009

She rode on

She rode on, her shadow circling in the damp mist; a suffocating blindfold risen from the field's floor. Hoof beats ground the cricket's song in F sharp under a sky of newborn stars. A still breeze is stirred by forgein movement, bodies together albeit physically seperated in a paradox heed the call of an Owl's hoot. Sewing their feathers back together a journey is rendered sorrow filled, a girl and her horse thunder by.

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