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First Rain

>> 25 Mar 2011

The first rain reminds me
Of the rising summer dust.
The rain doesn't remember the rain of yesteryear.
A year is a trained beast with no memories.
Soon you will again wear your harnesses,
Beautiful and embroidered, to hold
Sheer stockings: you
Mare and harnesses in one body.

The white panic of soft flesh
In the panic of a sudden vision
Of ancient saints.

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  © вeauту of мooи 2009 Romantica by тяιикα

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