 | | 02/05/2012 02:23
Sur le blog Amy Nelson
Poetry // Little ballads,
Little ballads are poured into the cups of a dreamer, bubbles climb my legslike butterflies in a bathtub,And the gardener in me wonderswhen the sun will lick the mulberry shrub.Little ballads are poured into the cups of a dancer,some hands will rise earlylike the hum in a melody's birth,And the music maker in me wonders if I was made for this earth.Little ballads are poured into the cups of a drinker, bothered hearts will keep us runninglike a beast with his horn,and the mother in me wonders when my babies will be born.Little ballads are poured into the cups of a girl with dandelion orbs,dust sits on my guest room shelflike a sky made of stars,and the blue bird in me...
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