The Walrii watch over the city on Third where they look down on the corner where I kissed Marrianne Morgan for the very first time. The smell of the sea waved through the air while the cool of midnight hung silence about us as we kissed, and breathed, and kissed again. Her eyes were the green of a far shores' grass; her hair was raven as autumn night. She was the first to say yes to the question one dreams of never asking twice. Such time has gone by now...even in the quiet I can't seem to remember her face.
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