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Who am I to deserve this love
(f[l]avored bluesfax dove)
reeling in flight, suspended curls, widening glides
lifting the numbers and letters
from cumulus to cirrus,
enduring etiquette's gestures
as lead by lovers, ships in bottles.
The dragon's spires are castle towers.
The land with no king brings no flowers.
The lady of the lake mends true sorrow.
The sea of love embraces tomorrow.
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