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Untethered, yet held tight,

A rope's embrace in a world of flight.

Swinging low from high above,

Her body is suspended, her heart is full of love.

The leaves beneath are her soft bed,

Where she hangs and sways gently, instead.

Bare skin adorned with ropes so red,

This artistry defies the norm, a spectacle that is not for the dead.

A dance in the trees, a playful act of trust,

In her inverted world, nothing's ever really lost.

No. 01367

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