On moonlit nights when the forest shimmers with winter frost, she comes. The bells of her dress jingle and peal to the tempo of her dance; on some days slow, on others like a country jig. A Queen dancing until a love returns although she be dead these many years.
When I read your comments on First 50 Words, I am so impressed by the quality of what you write. Then I come here and see the art and what you've done to enhance the meaning and I'm doubly impressed. It's really exciting to see your creativity in action.
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