Another day of writing a Fib, this one ascending / descending with a bit of rhyme.
Rain
Lovely
Long await
Your glorious balm
Pour out thy fire
Of cleansing pain
Gallop across this
Land with ire
Feign death
Quench
Pyre
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Precise economy of words painting a thirsty tale. I loves how you “fewer” it, Jill!
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Love that you added the rhyme to this form.
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