Wednesday, 6 November 2013

Glittering Youth

But how on this mossed bank of joy had he cheated the rooster?  Or could this wood of love turn back the crow-blackened edges of mouths to the once rose-pink lips of glittering youth?  An icy hand touched the back of her neck.  Cheating the precipice of ages made her uneasy and she felt the wind blow cold in a far away wood.

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