• j_anna06 6w

    Blissful #2

    A word implies a thousand and a thousand words mean one
    A bard recounts an ancient tale of a man who ever had none
    A closed door hides a place a little girl is drawn by rhyme
    By scorching tides on paper and by jewels worth a dime

    Draw out a dream to drown me, pray, create a dream of winds
    Slumber, a flood, engulfs me, yes, a slumber desired by kings
    And in my sleep, there're secrets I keep
    Until I wake for waking's sake
    I leave not in respect of my wish, I leave that dawn may break

    But say, for this day all wishes were granted, suppose all rule was in vain
    If at my bidding, truth were fancy and all that I lose was gain
    Then this would be the happening of many a verse composed
    When a silly baby was first called grown and all common conceits she opposed