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Beneath The Flower Moon
You’re called by fragrance to get out,
to bathe beneath the flower moon;
The whisper of Summer’s a shout,
you’re called by fragrance to get out;
Stirring dreams seem to layabout
‘til coaxed harshly from their cocoon;
You’re called by fragrance to get out,
to bathe beneath the flower moon.
Copyright ©
Melani Udaeta
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