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At Volga, by Boris Kustodiev
ElidethAbreu

**To Vagrant Paths**

 
 
From ancient tracks to winding lanes,
Of all man’s works, I cherish most the veins.
 
They thread through fields, a verdant maze,
Guiding my steps through woodland’s haze.
 
Through craggy dells and valleys lush,
They beckon me with an alluring hush.
 
Beneath the canopy, they spread like lace,
Connecting realms with an ephemeral trace.
 
As I traverse their sinuous length,
My soul finds solace, regains its strength.
 
From bustling streets to tranquil glades,
They whisper tales of joys and escapades.

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