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I am eight years old: part-elf, part-sprite and part-girl.

But most often a creature of joy.                                                                                                                                            

Today in the garden, I delight in sun-burning my arms and legs a crisp brown.

I loop, swoop and whoop around swirling winds.

And yellowing leaves from tall trees.

The faster and further they float, the more I chase.

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