How moving aside the leaves,
Falling continuous, after a squall
She came, like a sweet surrender,
There was perhaps a bit of drizzle somewhere,
And a lightning spark went across
From one end to the other
Of the brightest sky,
How she came like a whiff of fragrant air,
Diffusing me perhaps,
The sky thence was perhaps all lit up
With glory of our communion.
(*Note: the painting attached was done by Leonid Afremov; courtesy: Musica Pittura e Dintorni, Alex Artista, )
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