Wonder do they stride at all who bore him over her glistening ground I wonder, do I sense the breath of dragons, steering sound I catch the gust with my hands like an open bowl and hope the beast never stills the wailing of his mould I wonder, does it pour me something opaque in mirrormere and grace this that has lasted for quite some time will it last throughout all days The sound turns undressed back to me like beryls floating in a wide stream I wonder is this the final chance to fulfill the golden steem The sound of finches ledged to the skin defy this pledged cry never has it really leaned to me as a burden or an obvious lie I wonder if her silver horns bestow poison into my chalice for I feel the stains like Ive been touched, though wounded not from foreign malice Be with me and feel with me the sketch of your enchanting sky so I can hold you in my arms tight until the day I die
wonder, ledged, steem, sound, mirrormere