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ainter

The sky dawned in rich cerulean blue,

mantled by wisps of cloud.  He woke relieved,

and on re-entering the rose garden

became swoon-lightened with calm vibrancy;

a cascade impression of shifting shades

inviting him back with alluring scents,

as bloom bowed a graceful breeze of wave warmth.

His still life stirred and she walked the ground aslant,

strolling the garden with movement and ease.

He brushed a hand . . . and they merged in sympathy.

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