Nonword

the watery tree in between my domestically pale fingers pulls down the strings deep silence of an acoustic guitar is melting can't you resist looking at the haze could you if you rise from curiousness one and only wind knows how to mindly splend doors then close the same slippers breath but the maze has been forgotten by the polish fairytale my mother, my non-word-honest mother used to whisper when boulevards were in shadows creep however scares me no deep