The desolate part,the quiet evening
The peaceful waters the delicate breeze
Out of the solid approached pleasantness
The inaccessible chirping,the comfortable quills..
He was this and the sky is the limit from there
Fingers,,dear Swift fingers
The purple glow,the diminished face
The aching waited
The cold leaf
Laying hold of the evening
The bunches of the dim
Sliggered from the organization of destruction
Gracious exhausted dull
Visually impaired, forlorn and abrupt
Practically like the hurrying waters
From the wellspring drops
It sneaked in, gradually practically like the hurrying waters
From the wellspring drops
It sneaked in,slowly practically in a moment,held on
Soul whimpered
The surge overpowering
The purple groove,the delicate inquiry
Echoes of his touch, runs profound as the night progressed
Blank,with splitters like ligaments
Split seconds like huge chunks of time
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