Statuesque
Few clouds couldn't find place in heaven, So they made their adobe in thou eyes. They posses the serenity of year's first rain, A mystic thrall that humans defies. The hark of winter nights with flow of a brook, The eternal shine of sun kissed snow. The calmness that brings solace to a soul, And yet they have the mischief of a wild doe. Mesmerized and lost in the depth, An everlasting captivation that persists. All I do now is wonder in awe, That something so magical can really exists.
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