

The CynicFrom the North she flowed inThe Cynic
siren song, a sweetened dew; rain-clad
wanderer, honeyed with the love of the Earth and a city of friends warmed to the touch, foxed and perplexed, a sweetened few, dangled and teased in tantric cadence hung on every word, dripped from the tip of her tongue, a parting shot, new horizons and whatnot, not a lot, splashed into Heaven's fold, relieved of perception's hold
and left with reality - me,
foxed and perplexed, staring through the love of the Earth, once-removed,
a cynical interlude and the
glass is half-full
They're still ancient though.
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