Sneacking around,
a mouse,-
crawling toward the fields,
long before the sun's light-
caresses the morning's
flowing clouds.
I stand among the thorns,
only able to see the beauty;
as Adam stands in paradise,
not knowing the hateful.
They lay before me
such a glorious dark indigo,-
as if forest nyphs
sweet,-
joyous,-
love,-
has suffocated them.
the sprite's tears,
transformed into crystal dew drops,-
rolling of the thorns.
A robin's motherly music
silences all in awe-
playing from the cresent tree,
that reaches toward the sky.
The smell-
all so infatuating,
like the dew creeping across each
tantalizing berry
was the sweetest sugar.
The sun-
in one breif moment,
crossed the streaming meadow.
The berries-
glowing so harmoniously,
I waited for the sound...
of Angelic harps.
 
Copyright © ever_lost_angel, All Rights Reserved