When she turns, and rises in her majesty, a golden chain of mailed brilliancy, there, upon the black night, casts her great head back, her mouth agape, fangs bared and roarrrs...wildly! Silently, then comes she, down upon me, gazeing in my dark eyes, for our nest, our soul...is one resting. We sleep. We sleep...
Namaste
Written by Bruce James Clyde, at Deming, New Mexico
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