Heavenly I imagined the tenderness of such loving caress—like the grace of which flowers blossoms among the tenderness of the most humble of vines. Springing forth a taste of heaven, as savouring as words of truth spoken in due times. As comforting as billows of thoughts, bestowing upon the heart a song spent of Grace. Soothing as a sensual voice whispering unto beseeching ears, a melody as soft as winds of summer, sweeping across submissive sways of bending blades of gentle grass.
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