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Literature Text
Lost in time and tune, he blows
silver magic given breath
Trill highs, swoop lows
air turns to humming glass
fingers, as if playing
with scented hair
perfumed notes, exuded in the air
to brush on cheeks, to tickle ears
Are these my tears?
silver magic given breath
Trill highs, swoop lows
air turns to humming glass
fingers, as if playing
with scented hair
perfumed notes, exuded in the air
to brush on cheeks, to tickle ears
Are these my tears?
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I posted this under the name Coconut Ent, on a forum, way back...
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