You slide across the branches,
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Your glitter is fertile pollen,
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You're shadows in the shape of leaves.
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A wind that ripples the crest of waves against the current,
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You caress the rivers but you are the springs.
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Your eyes: buds which are moistened by the dew,
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Beyond webs of obscurity.
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The branches swing you
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Then you glide on your transparent wings.
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-----------------
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Under the Dock Leaves
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| Gothica |
