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the smooth surface of that little paper in her pallid hands as she read the contents, eyes dragging to ever words written with delicacy.

And as she read the last sentence, she went back to the first one again. And at that moment, oh how she dearly wished to meet the yearning heart of the poet.

So maybe, just maybe, she can satisfy it.

So maybe, just maybe, she can satisfy it

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poetry ; james potterWhere stories live. Discover now