Winnow The Wind.
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Soft as the cobwebs that dance the vine.
Moist as the droplets that dew the rose.
Warm as the first taste of ruby red wine
Is love, which once planted sturdily grows.
Harsh as the wind in the willow's branch.
Cold as the mountain lake's icy flow.
Hard as the drought that dehydrates romance
Is wilted love, growing where the gales blow.
Winnow the wind, divide chaff from grain.
Discover pure gold, come love me again.
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