…As if a tiny drummer is getting ready to take place on the stage above my stomach, as if somebody is giving start to my soul's feast!...feels like chewing fresh, juicy raspberries, blackberries…Feels like the fun Quasimodo had ringing the bells at the Tower…There is no ugliness, Esmeralda’s beautiful face vanished somewhere inside his hunchback!...
Feels like standing on a mountain and hearing the echo of your own scream…too much oxygen in the air keeping your cheeks red. Feels like putting your mouth under tap, feels like smiling at a child playing in the street whom you don’t know and probably will never see again.
Feels like getting a kiss on your forehead from someone with old, dry, wrinkled lips…There is no ugliness, star-glazed lips vanished in wisdom wrapped by wrinkled skin...
Feels like standing on a mountain and hearing the echo of your own scream…too much oxygen in the air keeping your cheeks red. Feels like putting your mouth under tap, feels like smiling at a child playing in the street whom you don’t know and probably will never see again.
Feels like getting a kiss on your forehead from someone with old, dry, wrinkled lips…There is no ugliness, star-glazed lips vanished in wisdom wrapped by wrinkled skin...
Bouquets of words are being strewed upon my head along with the noise of gleeful trumpets!
3 comments:
Now that's what I call true love! Beautiful piece babe.
Thanks much! Actually i am not in love but love is always in me:)
Wonderful! There is no ugliness but there is beauty, especially around here, Sherry.
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