The tune from,
the maiden faer.
Time stops and stares,
with awed reverence.
How words can spin,
magic webs.
Upon her braid
and constant gaze.
Tis not the world,
a plot divine.
To disarm all reason,
with just a smile.
What passion hangs from,
my lips that part.
That I fail to speak,
from my heart.
A beat that hums,
that merry tune.
Stems poetries,
for my muse!
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