Strands and whisps of ancient hair, turned and tangled on yonder chair. Tell me who was sitting there, next to the bear. The wind blows and they gently wave, but do not blow away. It's clear those hairs are here to stay, at least for today. The bear sits still but looks around, his eyes are fixed but nice and round. I know not what he cannot see, it seems to be a mystery.
Reason for writing:
Whimsy.
Birth sign: Scorpio
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