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Grandeur Garden: Chronicle Of Ibidem (page 1)

     
 

Of heroines, her noble beauty took

Never the herald to degrade or mock

Her alluring eyes have a dashing look –

a near scour between the tar colored locks.

Her hour glass of burning sands, a gift

Modestly robed in body length flannel

While the eager winds are fated to drift

Around her arrogant bound they channel.

The sun tears open a rift in the clouds

and brightens the edge of her annealed blade

which gains her passage through curious crowds

that witnessed the justice her honor made.

We wait, gratified to see she arrived

To explain for us just how she survived:

 

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