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Dawning in the desert

I woke up in a dry desert
It was hot, it was stuffing and I was all alert
Was I dreaming? Was I hallucinating?
Then he came, claiming to be the one to foster my writing
He was dressed as an Arab prince
He had blue eyes, fair traits and he rode a horse
He was the one because of whom life and its ways I did endorse
My muse, at last, in human form,
My muse, to whom I gave my whole being
My muse, the only one who can melt me down with his subtle charm!



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