Pixie Dust
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Written on November 30, 2024
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Pixie resting in the sun
All the wonder of morning’s warm.
Listen to her voice, so soft and fun,
Sweet giggles fade with the storm.
Pixie nods, speaks of peace so still.
Remembered words from poems spun,
Gentle petals from the flowers spill.
Dragonfly tells what she’s done.
Copyright © Regina Mcintosh | Year Posted 2024
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