There are lullabies on the wind
Laying in it's mournful howl,
In the flap of swallow's wings
And the cricket's sound.
You can hear this pagan melody,
At the last crux of the light,
See it falling gold as amber
Bleeding red and leaving night.
And look at all those distant suns,
Which ones have gone to sleep?
And are there some, that've just begun
Which just now I can't see?
Oh, hear the mournful gallows,
As the wind cuts down the leaves
And they crunch and crumple to the earth,
Preparing for the freeze.
Silver threads, reflected sun, shadows carving deep,
My lovely from the moon to tide,
And the suns far gazing reach,
The wind holds on to all of it.
Darling, listen to the breeze.
Madam La Zuray
Hello, darlings, I'm Madam La Zuray, author of dirty books you can't help but fall in love with. I bring the hot and the dirty and everything in between, all in a read you can swallow on your lunch hour. No sense in messing around with perfection.