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Floating on a raft of hewn wood on the river of fortune,

you gave me a light smile,

a wreath of vines and pale roses adorning your damp brown hair.

Your long hair clung to your wet breasts

as you arose and stepped ashore,

the dewy grass tickling your bare feet.

I recognized the familiar features on your delicate, rosy face

and rejoiced at your arrival while

you sat down, talking and talking

as my mental scribe strived to keep up;

and when the sky turned orange,

you departed, your charming eyes promising to return next time.

I rested my head in the comforting cradle of the meadow,

contemplating all that you had told me.