Strange music and late Saturday night,
half a glass of champagne and the bubbles,
chasing blood in my veins made out of rain.
Headache, aspirin and your touch
crumbled in a spoon with strawberry taste,
whisking wonders, holding tales about
castles in green, wizard’s kiss and I feel Queen.
Amber shadows dancing in the arms of lions
and the edges of my silk gown sending me back to reality.
The same music again, but early Sunday morning,
too loud to see anything shining, instead I hear
smoky windows moving in opposite directions and
the scent of the pillow next to me,
the smile on your face lettered with whispers,
escaping winters, reviving magic worlds.
© 2010 Broken Sparkles