on neglected trees
the dead hung swaying in the
soft, sweet, summer breeze
on neglected trees
the dead hung swaying in the
soft, sweet, summer breeze
Soft sweet summer breeze
caress the cheeks of my love;
Frost wither her not.
Voices mysterious far and near,
Sound of the wind and sound of the sea,
Are calling and whispering in my ear,
Whifflingpin! Why stayest thou here?
Frost wither her not,
Eternally she exists -
Life's Timeless Beauty.
"It's so mysterious, the land of tears."
Chapter 7, The Little Prince ~ Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
Life's Timeless Beauty
pretends like an afterthought
speckled in gold dust.
Speckled in gold dust
Her fairy hair lay tossled,
Intwined in heather.
"It's so mysterious, the land of tears."
Chapter 7, The Little Prince ~ Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
Intwined in heather,
and teathered there she confined
herself with the bees
herself with the bees
we would not touch either one
them being prickly both
se non e vero, e molto ben'trovato
them being prickly both
Waddled all the way to town
Them being Hedgehogs.
"When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has been opened for us." --*Helen Keller*
Them being hedgehogs
They never quite got the point
Except for always
except for Always
will Never wait, thumbs tucked deep
in future pockets
"Don't matter who they are, anybody sets foot in this house, they are company and don't let me catch you remarking on their ways like you were so high and mighty."
In future pockets
The hands of fate wait, idle
Enter the devil
Enter the devil,
Stage right, contract clutched tightly—
Will Faust sell his soul?
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Some of us laugh
Some of us cry
Some of us smoke
Some of us lie
But it's all just the way
that we cope with our lives...
will faust sell his soul
the moment passes again
a small contraction
se non e vero, e molto ben'trovato