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The Little Dreamer
On cool, cotton sheets, she sleeps alone. Her pale form in foetal position, her long, raven hair splayed out on the pillows. No trace of the day’s trials and tribulations remain, only on the cotton wool in the waste paper basket. After a time she stirs in the silence of a spell. Then she breathes, but the cool, cotton sheets have given way to gardens, where roses breathe poems. She idly reflects over the sweet, sonnets of scent, as above her, the leaves swirl like green hearts in the gentle...