With chords, thoughts and moves There laid two flying creatures, they had abandoned their shields at the front door when the wine started playing down the walls soaking pole to pole, they drank it with arranged wings, the two seagulls. Little did they know how falsely wary were their bodies already soaked
The blue one fluttered to the north air She looked to the sun and knew Too late, the shield was no more in her care When the rain started falling from conflicted clouds in the absence of her rig the seagull languidly tried to cease the drops. No logic to coat the sense All the way deceived by her ghost defense
With blurred movements in the sea carpet there came to her sight a savory brown trout murmuring wine memories to the seagull and the only drive in her mind: dip into the water; gently slip her claws through the fish; fiercely devour it; until it's no longer a wish
For long she was flying up and down, viciously all around, the blue seagull would see images of the trout in every fish when she was drowned. Little did she know the true brown to go down her throat was by then a far away memory of the one seagull soaked in wine And the moves, thoughts and chords.