Sixes


Snow-white King, maple cognac dripping into tapestry glass goblets, steps from the copper wash basin. A wreath of maple leaves leans against his burnt-out torch, forgotten. He grabs the pale rose cotton towel to dry his raven black locks and pale skin. Sunlight bursts around him, warming her longing heart.

Copyright © 2004 Stephanie A Moore
All Rights Reserved

50 words by moonstarnine.
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