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  • The dawn
    creeps up behind the trees with no leaves,
    silhouetting their naked limbs
    against ethereal golden strands.
    And the night-time,
    with its stars and half-remembered dreams,
    fades into the clear banality
    of daytime practicality.

    Like my Love--
    glorious in the thoughtlessness of the night-time,
    but bright and clear
    only for a split-second moment of early morning twilight.
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