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await my child, watch the skies, as home sparrow now surely flies. find the dove, upon the rain she is born sleeping in solitude, yet she does not mourn. watch now, my child, as the clouds take form. here you see the birth of a storm. | with wonderment to he that enchants her. Slow dance forward is made towards him, sensorium swaying with her movement. She sings a light song of hers to him. Melodic voice carried with the breeze. good sir. My christening is Butterfly. Might I inquire yours? |
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