all the angst that can come out of a guitar.
where else can love be so bold than in a song.
rough old voice of trees in their broodings.
its just nowhere else but here that songs grow wild.
and musings of old drums and lullabies.
its a strong melody by the fire,
one made of love.
and where love so bold but in a wild old song.
1 comment:
'rough old voice of trees' naice.
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