*
*
*
*
*
*
*
|
See You
scatters stars like a lily might its blush. Yet you call it th'mark of a whip. See th'pen flying like a feather on the white blank, cr'ates an apple like a daisy might its sunshine. Yet you call it the squirt of an urchin. See th'mice dancing 'mong the pansies from a fantasy, spreading joy that brings you 'way from harsh realities. Yet you call them 'cumbers treading nettle. See that only you are not of the sea; yet the horses, lions and cows are. See that you might 'less there're changes; yet the sea has never stopped changing.
5.moon.sky was here at 10:43 pm
|