What a hopeless phrase. What a terribly, terribly hopeless phrase.
Through stained glass windows are partridges//Singing in the boughs//Reciting favorite passages//That pleasantly could rouse//The dear elven-child//From his lovely dream//And with a lovely, toothless smile//His candor would brightly beam
My Love has brought me flavorful words//And so I give back to you, childish and unsure
And are not hard lines the very things that define form, else I be undisciplined splashes of ambiguity and not my current self
And who says you must wait until time's nearly up to learn how to scream//to learn how to breathe//or to learn how to notice the air around your lungs
This is a street I could fall in love on, where everyone's eyes reflect the stringed lights. Cobbles hold the weight of it all - the hearts and the hopes of what could and might.