No little script
That I have wrought
Could be so perfect
So tightly fraught
With such tones
and Temperament
With your bones
And subtle inference
Yet there you hum
Whilst I write
To catch a crumb
Of your in-finite
Sing a hallow
Gold, cold refrain
So I may swallow
And remain in-sane
For the aria, my dear
Splays my soul
And such, I fear
Might that, be all
May 27, 2017
May 27, 2017 at 2:41 PM UTC
No little script
That I have wrought
Could be so perfect
So tightly fraught
With such tones
and Temperament
With your bones
And subtle inference
Yet there you hum
Whilst I write
To catch a crumb
Of your in-finite
Sing a hallow
Gold, cold refrain
So I may swallow
And remain in-sane
For the aria, my dear
Splays my soul
And such, I fear
Might that, be all
Il Supremo, Vivaldi