Here she comes
Silent in her sound
Here she comes
Fresh upon the ground
To me, it’s poetry. Instruments used alongside the lyrics to create the white space of the sky, turning blue soon, the snowy dashes of daisies, the tiny yellow florets, the green grass starting to quicken. A sense of loss and hope intertwined in those sounds, expectation, caught breath, like a moment with someone new, someone you want, someone you might adore as much as your bones do right now, someone who might lose their bloom quickly, but it doesn’t matter. It never matters. It’s now. It’s now. It’s now.
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