The trees are an autograph
worn with pondering
the gilded grift of time
the spectre’s egg.
And we are molten haze
in the green palace.
And we are your voice’s mansions
in vineyards of echoes.
The trees are an autograph
worn with pondering
the gilded grift of time
the spectre’s egg.
And we are molten haze
in the green palace.
And we are your voice’s mansions
in vineyards of echoes.