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There's a crimson moon that is making my blood boil and my senses croon with the very thought of how it was with us the last time we were lost in loves sweet maze. Engrossed in each other to the exclusion of all else, sight, sound,smell, all suspended as we transverse the place where time has no relevance and matter is whatever we give to it.
Exalted to a supreme position where necessity is ours to determine, so we remain wrapped in the ermine fur of luxurious love where oneness is obtained, and ecstasy is sustained while the dove sings, and the gentle breezes caress the song, and bring it back to where it belongs playing in unison with our heartbeats as the earth is replenished and all is right with the world.
Hurry back to me love, lest the moon wane and the song end.
Eileen T. Waldron © 2001
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