curliques of an angels lips
form every syllable
a staircase
in the mind
her little memory a vastitude
of strange lands unexplored soon to be coloured in the envelope of her imaginarium
and fixed there
in Pietra Dura
curliques of an angels lips
form every syllable
a staircase
in the mind
her little memory a vastitude
of strange lands unexplored soon to be coloured in the envelope of her imaginarium
and fixed there
in Pietra Dura