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Words come easy


Nightingale
In the stillness of night, where the soft echoes flow, And the nightingale sings with a voice faint and low, While the dogs in the distance keep barking in streams, Yet the world lies asleep in the hush of its dreams. There’s a rustle of leaves and the whispering tide, As the waters move gently, they weave as they glide. There is nobody, not a shadow to see— Only you, only me, where the silence runs free. How your shoulder feels warm, how your hand finds its place, As the clo
Nadezhda Mikhova
Mar 311 min read
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