
Platinum locks reflecting the rays of the mighty Sun, An army of unfortunates kneels down just to admire. There she stands after all the burning has been done, A new-born Mother of three winged-sons fresh out of the pyre.
Leisure let me build my fragile grainy home, Standing timidly, defying its own fate, A faintly gate, and a well-shaped dome. Centuries gone, lovers have cried, Over the loss of bonds that they nurtured. To have captured, time, oh! Yes, they tried. The waves hit the walls and melted the land, But the [...]