Our dancing sun awaits to gambol, while wisps--bits like flakes of white to flutter.
As nature harmonizes fluidity in its parallels the wishes of a whispered word tease the dawn.
Angels paths to sail—to follow pull out the musings of a lovers’ longing.
The tube-ed strings are plucked, above the royal hues humming sway and fro. Wind-blown fields of golden, bow and spring, souls to catch the light--a waxen candle.
Blush to softly tease the upturned smile, trek the character of time’s hung past.