A gentle, verdant breeze, spiraling, swirling with the tinge of an emerald - whispering upon my flesh. Your eyes, a gale - Calming. Surreal. Gentle. A sea of leaves waving - as they see me. Were it not me... I am wholly unworthy. A storm of crystalline pines - a tempest forms as the rain pours from the fields. A cyclone severing...
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Poetry