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The 'M' Cave

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In the quiet meadow, under the vast sky, The grass whispers secrets as the wind sighs. A solitary oak, ancient and wise, Stretches twisted limbs to the heavens, defying time. Sunlight filters through leaves, a dappled dance, Casting shadows that weave and unweave in a silent trance. A brook babbles nearby, its journey unseen, Its voice a constant murmur, a liquid dream. Mountains loom in the distance, stoic and grand, Their peaks like jagged thoughts against the sky's expanse. Clouds drift lazily, an ever-changing band, Painting stories in hues of white on blue canvas. The air is heavy with the scent of wildflowers, Each bloom a burst of color, a fleeting power. Bees hum their industrious tune, flitting from petal to petal, Nature's own symphony, complex and elemental. As dusk approaches, the horizon bleeds, Colors melting, a masterpiece by unseen hands. Stars peek from their celestial hides, tiny seeds, Sprinkling the night with glimmers of distant lands.

Mrs. Malako
robert miller

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