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Ghosts of a half-remembered dream

Of time and tide, not quite what it seems

Lead down to water’s edge.

Promises of dawn in the fading night

Faintest blush on eastern brow in sight

Lead near horizon’s edge.

Gentle brush of silken hair

Soft whispers on the misty air

Lead wary souls to passion’s edge.

Mere sylphs of spectral laces,

Misty lines of half-remembered faces

Lead to creation’s edge.

As sparks struck to brittle tinder

Leap twig to branch with naught to hinder

Lead to forest’s edge.

Ghosts of a full-remembered dream

Of time and tide, more than what they seem

Lead from the water’s edge.

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