In my last dalliance between Parchment and Ink,
I crossed many a line, without a blink;
And like a fading whisper, beckoning your heart,
I bridged two worlds, never meant to be apart.
The fading music of the Brontide;
The cursing of the storm’s bride;
The growing nebulous of our dreams,
Are Symbolic of more than what it seems.
So follow those amorphous puffs of smoke;
Into an unexplored world of caprice;
Where the chrysalis of inhibitions broke;
And desire rode the midnight breeze.
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 8:59 AM UTC
In my last dalliance between Parchment and Ink,
I crossed many a line, without a blink;
And like a fading whisper, beckoning your heart,
I bridged two worlds, never meant to be apart.
The fading music of the Brontide;
The cursing of the storm’s bride;
The growing nebulous of our dreams,
Are Symbolic of more than what it seems.
So follow those amorphous puffs of smoke;
Into an unexplored world of caprice;
Where the chrysalis of inhibitions broke;
And desire rode the midnight breeze.
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