Sips of cold autumnal aerial streams
Dress the soil in withering husks
In fog have been lost all summer dreams
Last remnants hidden in bleak dusks
So sweet is the feeling of solitude
The magick of desolation is divine
Broken shards that we constitute
Perfect in imperfection, gems o' time
A.K.
Dress the soil in withering husks
In fog have been lost all summer dreams
Last remnants hidden in bleak dusks
So sweet is the feeling of solitude
The magick of desolation is divine
Broken shards that we constitute
Perfect in imperfection, gems o' time
A.K.
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