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Posted: Thu Apr 12, 2012 6:49 am
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Soft light bathes the swamp in white; It's eerie, yet at the same time, beautiful. A doe looks up at the orb-of-night. She looks, and she can't look away. Its pale glow a mask of deception, Holding her now… enchanted. She begins to sway, and as she does, Everything falls away. The trees, the reeds, the noises — Perhaps even the ground. There is nothing left, Just her (gently swaying) and the moon.
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