April blossoms bless my ears,
as she sings of falling leaves and snow.
Summer lives in every utterance;
Every note fulfils my soul.
Fairgrounds on the meadow glade.
Cloudless blue, and the green below...
I see it all behind her eyes; The skies
are Springtime when I hear those notes.
Vivaldi claims that seasons change,
and begin with falling leaves and snow.
When she sings, why then is it Spring?
The leaves fall fast, but the blossoms fall slow
in time with her voice, and my heart so aglow.
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 8:56 PM UTC
April blossoms bless my ears,
as she sings of falling leaves and snow.
Summer lives in every utterance;
Every note fulfils my soul.
Fairgrounds on the meadow glade.
Cloudless blue, and the green below...
I see it all behind her eyes; The skies
are Springtime when I hear those notes.
Vivaldi claims that seasons change,
and begin with falling leaves and snow.
When she sings, why then is it Spring?
The leaves fall fast, but the blossoms fall slow
in time with her voice, and my heart so aglow.
