HOUR FOUR: SWAY

It was the spring of the final year
When the tiredness in her limbs was unprecedented
She could see all the warnings, and though she could hear
Instructions were left unimplemented
It was the spring of the final year
When the best of the city was on display
And she was spent but moving over-confidently
The peacock in full swagger and sway
It was the spring of the final year
when all was a clandestine simmer
the way unavoidable as fate
The peacock took her love, took her over

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