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(Un)solved conundrum
Strange are the trees
And their hollow, dark sticks
Awkward, those crimson birds
Sitting still, in their nests
Playful the soft wind
Flowing down the hill,
Yet so unknown this...
And their hollow, dark sticks
Awkward, those crimson birds
Sitting still, in their nests
Playful the soft wind
Flowing down the hill,
Yet so unknown this...
