She was not a manicured rose in a landscaped garden of vain aspirations, with cruel thorns concealed by seductive, scented charms. Felicity was a fair daisy – colourful and bright, growing wild and in profusion with tarnished roots planted firmly in the arid soil of her impoverished life. Her beauty was manifest in her tender smile and her compassionate heart and her ageless soul. Her devoted calm became my refuge and my happiness. I had found my Felicity...
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