It’s the little things,
That sparkle, like magic –
The early morning sun
Clashing with its man made kin,
A harmony, in the cold weather, rejoice
Dance with Juno,
In the labyrinth of the creepers succumbing to the darkness,
breathing.
It’s the beauty, you don’t notice –
The wind wavering in the midst of all that’s calm.
Scream your passion,
running past the green and glass.
It’s just the beginning.
Brunilda Writes 