The pink of the flowers Matches the blush of her cheek The azure of the heavens Envies the blue of her eyes The wind through the wheat Flows as the gold of her hair The song of the nightingale gale Pales in beauty to her voice The blazing sun at high noon Chills compared to her smile The glory of spring wakes the world While her love alone gives me life
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Musing & Creating with T.J.S. Sherman 
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