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Rose Of Night

Scarlet lower lip,
Still
In the rose
Of night.

(Fresh breeze rustling through her hair,
Fresh breeze for my eyes.)

Kind
Hand
Like a robin
Over a face
Of Earth.
The deep wells
Of her eyes
Will close.
The burning arrow
Shall open
The quivering target.

(Fresh breeze rustling through her hair,
Fresh breeze for my eyes.)

A contest entry

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