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A Loch Lament
ivory fingers trail a wake across the black waters of the loch
carried on a small wooden skiff on a warm summer’s breeze
.
adrift under celtic mountains ablaze with wild fiery red heather
reflected in teaselled hair, swept aside to reveal deep beautiful hazel eyes
.
bewitchingly she whispers a traditional air that tells of a broken heart
surrendered to the dark waters
.
her lament speaks of a mystical ethereal figure
.
a soulful young lass seen on the morning mist of the loch
.
a legend perhaps, but on days such as these ivory fingers can touch the past in the cool waters
and feel the melancholy heart of Scotland
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