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                             The Apple PASTURE

Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture.
Were once was and all well meet.
A pure and dear site.
Where silver reflection cover the still waters that holds the golden
grains of morality and the grazing souls lie young amounce no stars.
Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture
Were winds smell of melon and the trees whisper spring corals in the mellow dark and best of light and time creeps into no tomorrow.


Copyright © | Year Posted 2011

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Date: 7/9/2016 12:56:00 AM
Jay J, nicely penned. Enjoyed reading your thoughts and words today. Love ~SKAT~
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