Apr 21
You are the Moon, How many songs will be sung again, Desires which ploughed the sky To reach you.
You are the port for writers who don't write And often lose their minds, For angels of clay Unable to fly.
So mad and mindless I am from joy to ponder over that face, and to be gifted such tender and blossoming throughout of my heart company of its creator, of its dreamer, of @winduphathe!
To you my heart forever lays, and to you my gratefulness and adoration know no bounds, no wit, no measure at all<зз
