Water suited her,
cleaved for her,
ran off her as,
barefoot on oakleaves,
the
air transmuted her
from
Naiad to Dryad.
(Image used by kind permission of
Holden-and-Camille.com to whom I am most grateful and you should go visit. The
poem is my imagination and is not a reflection of their lifestyle)
Yes, this is exactly the affect that the lake has on me! ~C
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