Swift Runner met Delicate Flower,
And under the silver moon,
He asked for her hand in marriage.
Their canoe flew swiftly
Over the waters,
Gliding smoothly, like oil
On the glass-still lake.
The storm came unexpectedly,
And when it was over,
He could not find
His beloved Flower.
She comes to him in dreams
On soft summer nights,
Gliding on the perfume
Of mock-orange flowers.
— April 22, 2012
clarakatalin 
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