THE SONG FROM HOLLY
Admiring
her pure white laced kindred spirit
As she sings from the
heart from her playhouse pink
Plain and simple sepia
words which touch me
Delivering notes like
falling russet leaves
As she sings from her
heart from her playhouse pink
Singing through windchimes
as I don’t care who else is listening
Delivering notes like
falling russet leaves
Yes, I listen to you
child, most precious in her time
We don’t care who else
is listening
No, the cold is not biting
me with ice teeth
Yes, I listen to you
Holly, most precious in her time
With everything sparkling
up my deadened senses
No, the cold is not biting
me with ice teeth
Above and beneath, the
world is now a beautiful place
With everything sparkling
up my deadened senses
I can see, hear feel,
smell and taste her perfume
Above and beneath, the
world is now a beautiful place
Singing through windchimes
as we don’t care who else is listening
I can see, hear, feel,
smell and taste her perfume
Admiring her pure white
laced kindred spirit
Delivering notes like
falling russet leaves
With everything sparkling
up my deadened senses
|Plain and simple sepia
words which touch me
Above and beneath the
world is a beautiful place
Singing through
windchimes, as we don’t care who else is listening
No, the cold is not biting
me with ice teeth
I can see, hear, feel,
smell and taste your perfume
Yes, I listen to you,
granddaughter , more precious than time itself
The copyright of this post belongs to Marion Brown 13 October
2014
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