| As evening sky whispers timeless songs of spent days and wild dreams, nomad clouds drift on sacred tunes and mesmerise a sleepy sun. Entranced, her eyes drink the sky, as a jealous moon waits in the wings, longing to pour light into hollow stars. Birds, weary of soaring circle hue tinted scapes, seeking havens in the nests of night. Her breathe, a wind Her eyes, a dance Her breast beads as dew, and trickles as rain. Warm spirit breezes herald an alighting, cooling her moist skin, stilling taken eyes. A thousand flecked sunsets warm her ribboned hair, as strands of red whip up time to the beating of freshly travelled wings. |
| WindSong |
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