Music is so ancient.
It's so odd to think that
The sweet lilting of the flute,
Played through my speakers, read from a CD-
Could be so close to the sound of reed pipes!-
Played by children dancing in the forest.
For they may sound different,
But really, they aren't so strange.
It's the same notes, same melody,
Thousands of years apart.
the winter makes me so happy
the snow hanging in the trees
the cold biting at you
i love it
oh Icarus, you poor thing.
fell in love with the sun, the sky-
paid the price, i suppose.
why do we always pay the price for love?
Orpheus, lonesome poet,
lost his love because he wanted to tell her they'd made it.
In my attic I keep my heart.
I hold it there, safe amidst pillows, blankets and childhood stuffed animals.
When I make things, I break off a piece of my heart,
and sew it into pillows,
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