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A wooden chair,
carved, exquisite
in the gleaming torchlight.
I take my seat, nay be it comfortable
And fidget as you stare
Unrelenting as stone
on my pliant skin
I tap, you are still
Wooden and warm as this chair
I have searched far beyond my bounds
But it is of no consequence 
to you it seems

I take my leave

Your eyes flicker
I find it is but the reflection 
of disturbed flames.
carved and exquisite
hollow in cold moonlight.
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