In the Eye of the Storm
by kholinar
Those eyes are a chorus
that slips sound from
my lips.
Those thoughts are a zephyr
that spins air round
my pen.
When the ink dries
and the notes die,
they have a look
that says you’ll stay around.
Those eyes are a chorus
that slips sound from
my lips.
Those thoughts are a zephyr
that spins air round
my pen.
When the ink dries
and the notes die,
they have a look
that says you’ll stay around.