Falling stars like speckled gold, Juniper fields, memories of old, The bees have gone, or so I've been told Would you have known? Where you were, the path grows cold Not one you've wrote, those empty notes, Hardly a modern myth, To me, this dream you sold
Fire is a sea of beautiful entities, Gentle creatures craving dominance, Powerful symbols with graceful manners, Stings sharp, like a velvet dress, Tides of patience, bouquet of asters, Or perhaps, A cordial, thunderous waltz, Veil of mystics await the golden embers