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She Moved Like a Scymrian....

Speak softly my love.

As the sound, of my breaking heart.

Rolls like thunder, on the wind.

There’s a shimmer, on the air.

And forgotten lovers, tears. 

Fall, like ..... warm rain.

While my own, have been chilled.

If you see those flecks that float....

Caught within a sunbeam.

They are all mine

The last remnants of my soul.

Now scattered

..... on the wind

Giajl © Jim Love