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Fantasies are Worn


The light of new dawn dust the sky in a crimson hue.
The wind dances upon the water's face in this enchanted place.
Mountains frame the sight with formal regal might.
The eye drifts to hold the sight of Eagles' graceful flight.
Nesting on the cliff the eagle's Hatchlings Mother lifts.
In the search for food and wild delight, her wings embrace the heights.
Days and nights carry on until the earth and sky are gone.
A blending of old,  a bending of bold is woven in legends told.
A parting of a world of ancient history's gold.
A dream not ready to be born, when the flight has torn, and fantasies are worn.

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Fantasies are Worn