On the precipice it stands,
loose-limbed with a sinewy grace,
body taut with an implied swagger,
face, grinning, a sun-dappled gold.
Unclouded by the cataract of cynicism,
its eyes survey a horizon heat-hazed with
a thousand promises.
As yet, love has left it with no sutured heart,
nor loss summoned a creeping despair.
By no friend has it yet...
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