They fade, as a sunset fades, at the mythic edge...of history. They fade, and whisper, one more time...'we love you, but we cannot stay...we flowers, of another world. We will come to you again'. They fade, these fateful beings of the light, until all's left's the high sweet sound...the end of the song...
...of the elvin people.
Written by Bruce James Clyde, at Deming, New Mexico
Art: forest elf, google art
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