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The girl who surfed in winter
"A board?" They speak, "They dont! who in theses Nineties would dare in these?"
Yet,
In the south of the 95th.
Miles away, where there is but a war, tagged is the heavens with loosened lightning knots whose afternoise brutally overpowers the sea like a pirate,
He sighs one,
Actual enough out of the foggy silhouette,
of the smoothest wood she's
Surfing, surfs, surf…
Comes to Collect to him
in the vast of the empty 95th Winter.
"Who in these Nineties would dare?"

A petite body,
Possesive pale breath yet too is the skin,
Meets him in choice and watch Him fold out of words to speak.
Her ostentatious smile, raw like surfing in winter waters isn't horrific drowns His boots back from the edge.
"You dare?", He breathed the 24 out
Yet she did.

Yet she is with Him,
Her threads fit a Scandinavian.
She dares to surf through the Zeus-Poseidon tag of War.
Yet she is with Him
He almond eyes cast and capture
And when she giggles in possibilities, opulent pulchritudious features mark their territories on her freezing face.
He didn't believe in heaven, yet an Angel was on his dock.





© Kaiso Isaac