Formed by the caldron of pewter clouds, changing from a wonder to a wish never spoken, though dreamed then remembered upon a lucid awakening . Falling from the face of sky, moist glint in the eye of memory’s myriad, feminine always this nature she colours falling from her window of soul.
These teardrops from the face of sky, find their pathway, parting a dried chrysalis with a saline memory,
a call before you were born unfolding to these warm crespucular rays touching through the cauldron of clouds.
Changing from a wish never spoken into a wonder deemed from a lucid dream. Liquid like rain falling from the face of sky.
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