The wind swirls and swishes, drum beats prance across the streets… children chant in the corner, ladies gossip I stare longingly; heart in mouth wishing for a flawless execution… but I stutter… this is My last move… I raise my sword to Nike the winged goddess of victory, My heart races as her glance meets my stare, I am dazzled by the golden hue as the morning sun dances amidst her hair She is a masterpiece carefully crafted from lip to hip from dreamy dawn to dusty dusk, Under the kind light of the distant moon, whose arms reach out to kiss the sea, She calls my name her voice, a splendid fragrance, a sweet citrus musk, by night the pale hue of the crescent sentinel Welcomes me into her world My aorta rages for a moment A flickering portion of what seems to be an eternity I see her silhouette poised delicately amidst the stars Her locks of

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