Under the crescent moon a light autumn dew
Has chilled the robe she will not change —
And she touches a silver lute all night,
Afraid to go back to her empty room.

 

This was so short I contemplated whether I should blog about it or not, but I couldn’t get it out of my head so share with you I have. If you are anything like me, you’ll keep reading it over and over.

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Charlie
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It’s definitely pretty!

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