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Literature Text
The lady of the lake,
That enters stiffly,
Swims with open arms--
Teetering absently before your misfortune;
Like lilies that tangle--
Sweeping stardust under foot;
Blessed be,
For Augusts laughter can scarcely sing;
Absently she delegates the breathe of summer;
Nimble are the fingertips that caress your dignity,
Onward she sleeps for vanity--
Until heaven held her far.
That enters stiffly,
Swims with open arms--
Teetering absently before your misfortune;
Like lilies that tangle--
Sweeping stardust under foot;
Blessed be,
For Augusts laughter can scarcely sing;
Absently she delegates the breathe of summer;
Nimble are the fingertips that caress your dignity,
Onward she sleeps for vanity--
Until heaven held her far.
© 2013 - 2024 XxQuothTheRavenxX
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