Before he could blink or close fast his eyes Her joyous moment cast the final dyes Prior his christening the naming harangue Her chorus amended the death-knell rang.
To the intolerant elected us must learn to love: for it is they, who have frozen on the path to light. For it is they, who have frozen short sighted and fastened their tempers of understanding.
Ghostly are blossoms conjured? Swirling paths remembered... On these petals shall we tread? Rise as though they never shed. On their pink ribbons, shall we glide?
The autumn breeze, wanders purposeful. Crispy waves both warmish and cold: Crisscross the lawn, sometimes wrathful, Other times gently consoled. Like a lamb not quite ready to walk
