The sun quickly goes hazy,
Leaving silhouettes of naivete
All the melodies that stirred the tree's being,
Never left its veins; still creeping
Summer whispers stories to the other parts of the dozen,
Dauntless tales beginning to finally ripen
One has savored the flame from the lips of a lad,
While the other, on one's own, the mountains of the land
The dove witnessed all of these,
and is now demeaned of herself
For she only thirsted for a burgeon of love,
however, devoured the liquid of despair
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 2:33 AM UTC
The sun quickly goes hazy,
Leaving silhouettes of naivete
All the melodies that stirred the tree's being,
Never left its veins; still creeping
Summer whispers stories to the other parts of the dozen,
Dauntless tales beginning to finally ripen
One has savored the flame from the lips of a lad,
While the other, on one's own, the mountains of the land
The dove witnessed all of these,
and is now demeaned of herself
For she only thirsted for a burgeon of love,
however, devoured the liquid of despair
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