A crisp wisps,
bantering with
the winds,
Grasped
by the sycamores...
webbed, arched,
snow capped, and dangling. Swerving...
hauntingly romanticizing
paved paths.
Clovers' velveteen vistas...
thistle kisses graciously
lacing cobblestone pavilions,
casting mystifying
essences of times lapse.
-CLC
©ariela
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