Sailing ships and fairy wings, dragons’ hoards and precious rings, lands, languages, philosophies, broken hearts, and fantasies flit like feathers on a breeze, like ashes floating out to sea. Salt drops fall to ocean leagues like single sheets to libraries for lovers lost and battles won, for softened hearts and souls undone, for wolves that howled at lonely moons, and every end that came too soon. Paper wings, bound no more, alight upon the bosom’s shore to grasp the untamed lion’s mane and dance in waking dreams again.

For someone whose books were lost to the elements.

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