Strange Woman: Summer Spirit

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it has been a decade, perhaps more… I lived across the street from a strange woman. She would not be seen for days at length, but she was always there… soft notes would find their way delicately but laughingly out of curious cracks in those lavender curtains… I would often sit my afternoons under the old Oak and listen to the plucking of those well humored strings. It was like the player’s hands had acquired the playfulness, perhaps even the mystery of the most spirited of summer breeze. How spirited can the summer breeze be, you may wonder… I will fail to answer… you would know in a moment, if that cadence were to reach your ear, and tickle you into an innocent submission… evenings were different… I believe, it would suffice to say that every other time I would break into tears… what was this loss?… how could it be mine?… she was a strange woman… I never talked to her, but her music made me feel the most tender satisfaction… and the bluest of blue… I hear the sparrows, and end up thinking of her…

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