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The Encounter

It was a dream of charcoal tresses,
flowing freely upon the breeze,
of lightly pale and green sun dresses,
the promise of flesh that runs so deep.

Lustrous skin as smooth as silk,
smiles that shines strawberry red,
a voice that speaks to hearts that skip,
laughter that breaks into cold cold sweat.

Seated across the Foundry table,
thoughts distracted mind a-spinning,
eyes re-focusing staying level
coyly sneaking shy-like glancing.

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