A couple of lines here belong to a friend of mine. This is dedicated to him.

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Dew sits quietly amongst the shawls of fertile grass,

As mist slowly lifts in the shimmering golden light and

Delicate flowers quiver, basking in its tender warmth.

Morning sunshine evaporates stalking shadows; banishes

Clouds; allows smiles to blossom on dreaming buds which

See graceful trees wave in breezy, cool-blue skies.

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Lazily, the brook bubbles past joyous fields where bees

Drift in search of nectar and birds sing of the clear dawn;

Where butterflies flitter between pastel petals – where

Open grass gives way to angelic, sleeping woods and

Vast slopes stretch up towards the shaft of sunlight.

The valley rises, elegant beyond tall trees, to reveal

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Mountain peaks, gilt in the glimmering sunrise;

Framing the scene, their silken shadows embrace –

Protect – the fountain that trickles from the rock, admired;

Yet unaware. The molehills they guard gaze to the

Horizon and dream of one day being strong enough

To carry the snow that glitters beneath bright skies.