There are fairies in the light In that glowing bulb so bright Resin trunks - amber lockets Wound-around a ring of spirits. Who goes there… in the wilderness?
They’re singing in the laurels At first our lovers danced Behind the evergreen box-hedge O’ then they’re singing in the laurels Housed by the woodlands-edge…
Mr—you can kiss me if or when I ask. But do not sir not ever before Mr—you may touch me a little if I grasp But don’t ask what I’m looking for? It might just be a senator or a signor.
Nameless; she herself dares her, secret kiss Softly, tenderly, he tinkles like a gentle rain fall. Falling down the chimney, her senses sizzle… She calls come this solstice at owl, call.
