K.
In A3 major.
.
Gently getting into its stride.
Clean and shows its gentle side.
No upper antes, or cherry lips.
Uttering clearly “you’re ” from those lips.
.
Reflections from the Mediterranean.
K.
In A3 major.
.
Gently getting into its stride.
Clean and shows its gentle side.
No upper antes, or cherry lips.
Uttering clearly “you’re ” from those lips.
.
Reflections from the Mediterranean.
Acesho.
In D major.
.
There is an answer.
To what you seek.
All in it’s good time.
That will it be revealed
.
Reflections from the Mediterranean.
Luyseoni.
In G major.
.
A small painting on the wall.
Of a delicate tone that the nose keeps point on. To.
If anything, it speaks of a certain kind of value.
It’s proof of work, most of all.
.
Reflections from the Mediterranean.
Bunanul.
In B3 major.
.
Between you and the word.
An opening to your breath.
Audible to the ear to take.
It grows more when it hits the nerve.
.
Reflections from the Mediterranean.
Ayzeor.
In A3 major.
.
Dreams through the bell.
Ringing in rhythms, like a church bell.
Two dreams, of charms and well.
In betweens, no recall to tell.
.
Reflections from the Mediterranean.
Acaathy.
In F major.
.
Don’t read these words.
They will leave you with an empty bag.
You can feel, what they tell.
Yet you hold on to them till when?
.
Reflections from the Mediterranean
Edarona.
In C major.
.
Thoughts printed on paper.
That have lived for many a day.
The ink, bleached from their tenderness.
Leaving a mystery, now to have.
.
Reflections from the Mediterranean.
Raeyodo.
In D major.
.
A sapling angrily complained.
That the world is for the young to simply take.
And the ancient yew tree listened patiently.
Knowing, that in their turn they will hear the same.
.
Reflections from the Mediterranean.
Eastiso.
In B3 major.
.
It will come back.
The idea that, has slipped away.
It had gone, don’t know where.
To return and maybe put on a page.
.
Reflections from the Mediterranean.
Dunlaul.
In A3 major.
.
The house where the lights are on.
A shadow cast by the moonlight is gone.
The dark green leaves still awake, by the breeze.
It’s lonely, and empty except for the warm homey light.
.
Reflections from the Mediterranean.