He watches the sun as it
Arises past signs
Stretching his wingless body
To the top of a tree line
Watching the light decline
Into a field of green and burgundy
Golden treasure, buried pleasure
Bones, roots and spirits petrified
Unearthed and excavated
By moonlight and wine
Until the morning arrives
Compelling his climb
She gazes across the divide
Fondly, she toils
As she reaches the soil
From the height of illuminated sky
To touch his lips
A first and final time
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