reclamado.por.la.naturaleza
In distant swamps where shadows play,
A red-haired maiden waits each day.
Her hair a flame against the green,
Her spark ignites the murky scene.
With steady breath and patient eyes,
She watches fog and shifting skies.
No knight nor prince to claim her hand
Rather the ogre of the land.
Through mist and moss, he'll have to trek,
To sweep her from the swampy wreck.
Not by the sword, nor crown, nor throne
But by a bond all of their own.
Model: @vimalafaith
** Posted with permision **
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