The beautifully past the fairies bells are ringing
a quiet morning stretch, take the votes against.
Thoughts silky smooth webs,
strong woven.
A seagull flies against the wind swinging.
Natural light is reduced after the summer.
Forest invites hikers,
the camera records the memories of moonlight, and the sun.
Echoing the natural sounds of rocks,
fog, haze rises stoking swamps.
Everyday morning I have only a hero.
Ducks wings rustling, the day sunset.
The memories of the autumn, and an incoming
winter magic.
I wrapped myself in a blanket inside
rocking chair,
when the fog lay siege to the whole country.
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