Sometimes,
When he is alone in his thought,
This inscrutable Lord of the western lands,
Standing there in the open ground underneath a warming sun,
And the air is still and quiet.
The winds comes up , unexpectedly
And nuzzle against his neck,
Kissing his ears,
Playing with his silver hair,
Caressing his cheek
And he remember her fiery eye,
And her voice,
And
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