As far as the gypsy’s eye can see
As low as the clouds that touch the trees
The blades of grass, the dying leaves
Love consumes endlessly
Fluttering of the moth’s gentle wings
The woman in the woods that will never sing
A frozen pond in the middle of a dream
Love endures as it seems
Touching all with gentle limbs
Singing a melody of compelling hymns
Curing men that drip with sins
Our journey starts where love begins
As low as the clouds that touch the trees
The blades of grass, the dying leaves
Love consumes endlessly
Fluttering of the moth’s gentle wings
The woman in the woods that will never sing
A frozen pond in the middle of a dream
Love endures as it seems
Touching all with gentle limbs
Singing a melody of compelling hymns
Curing men that drip with sins
Our journey starts where love begins
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.
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