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Tristan
Flaming arrows fly
towards the boat adrift.
Dark fur, and gold inside.
Arms crossed on silk of white.
Salt air, and rush of sea.
Dark clouds running free.
Seven heads bowed low.
A final heartbeat from the bow.
Onw wound across,
to found the loss.
Yet deep inside he lives,
the poison gives a secret life.
Shallow cut the knife.
Across the rolling sea,
carried far, aflame.
Washed up and found.
Healed by love,
soft touches by a princess dove.
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