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you gesture
your hand, " which provides a nice perch, or fair shelter beneath it."
Your voice is so soothing ... it fits nicely with the sounds of the woods.
It's almost hard to distinguish your words from the gentle rustling of the
leaves in the breeze. As you speak I find myself studying you. Your voice
is mellifluous and entrancing, and my body relaxes under its influence. I
can't quite see your face since you haven't looked directly at me. You're
not much larger than me, but then I'm a bit larger than medium as women go.
Your complexion is on the pale side, but the tip of your pixie nose is
pink from the cool air. Your hair is long, straight and fine - the color
of wheat with hints of red and gold. The breeze lifts and blows it easily,
giving you a somewhat wild appearance.
I feel intoxicated by my daydream and your voice, and I think to myself,
`Is this an elf? Could this be Shakespeare's Puck?'
"HA!" I utter out loud, unintentionally, realizing my silly thought.
Suddenly your eyes are looking right into mine. They are the steel blue of
winter skies. They reach deep into my soul. I
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