To do, To do...
She cannot fly like the winter fliesWith silver lining and crystal fear
Her presence is denounced with circumstance and trial
And she is left unhardened and afraid
She's a living vision of a sober night and day
With candle lit eyes and beams of the sun echoing in her gaze
She calls, singing into silence and livening the dead
With presence invariably breaking prisms through light
posted by Unknown @ 2:22 PM
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