psychotic, she says
psychedelic, he says
tho black n' white,
tumultuous are the variances of shading,
the hints of unknown fragrances
of days yet to come when,
spring earth and spring buds
long past the point of expectation,
inject colorful unexpectedness
eyes so clear so bright,
how can she not see beyond the pale
emotionless expression of gaunt,
that all turbulence is not bad
see that streak of black hair,
refusing to be hidden, a provocation,
curling, asking to be stroked,
pitter patter it teases the lips,
but only after it grazes the eyelash
so seductively it screams
I am beautiful!
does she fail to see?
who will not permit her
to see what I have seen?
the lyric comes to mind instantly:
***Well let me tell you 'bout the way she looked
The way she'd act and the colour of her hair
Her voice was soft and cool
Her eyes were clear and bright
But she's not there***
*her eyes are clear and bright,
her pen delicate and light,
she unbeknownst surrounded,
by admirers that gladly lay,
not their cape, but their whole body
across these leftover puddles of winter*
*will she? will she cross over?
with those eyes so clear, so bright,
there is only one acceptable answer!*
*come spring, come summer,
her true nature will nurture*
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 2:31 PM UTC
psychotic, she says
psychedelic, he says
tho black n' white,
tumultuous are the variances of shading,
the hints of unknown fragrances
of days yet to come when,
spring earth and spring buds
long past the point of expectation,
inject colorful unexpectedness
eyes so clear so bright,
how can she not see beyond the pale
emotionless expression of gaunt,
that all turbulence is not bad
see that streak of black hair,
refusing to be hidden, a provocation,
curling, asking to be stroked,
pitter patter it teases the lips,
but only after it grazes the eyelash
so seductively it screams
I am beautiful!
does she fail to see?
who will not permit her
to see what I have seen?
the lyric comes to mind instantly:
***Well let me tell you 'bout the way she looked
The way she'd act and the colour of her hair
Her voice was soft and cool
Her eyes were clear and bright
But she's not there***
*her eyes are clear and bright,
her pen delicate and light,
she unbeknownst surrounded,
by admirers that gladly lay,
not their cape, but their whole body
across these leftover puddles of winter*
*will she? will she cross over?
with those eyes so clear, so bright,
there is only one acceptable answer!*
*come spring, come summer,
her true nature will nurture*
For her, one of my oldest and nearest
HP friends.
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