untamed belief emotions of the elder gods
a story of the feeling more felt than known
it all started with an acorn drifting in the wind on the branch of the divine tree in a grove of the sapling gods,
druids cleaned and bards sung to the days of the sun...
softly drifting hazy mist covered the grounds as the growing fauns wondered distant hills in the depths of oaken and untamed lands...
in the centre of the grove in company it seemed lay two lovers ,
a bard it seems and his mate , both dressed in green and browns ,
harp within his hands a woeding whow sung a deep and violent beat of growing rocks cracking ice and flowers about to march to war.
her hands played with a piece of wood a pipe by the hand of loana sheilhan....
but of yor she did not as yet pluck it upon her dew filled lips so succulent and rounded though her bussum be, he noted with a weary smile..
her look to him in the manner of a doe with eyes cast to breesy things , prahapse a wolf comes...
a twig break or a single heart string pluck in the breese of her dawny brow ?
to the nerves within the moment , what was to be was ever excluded from eruption or spouting but was always known about in the eyes and ears of a childly sprouting..
to the match of pipes her voice did lift the winds to her heart where they swirl the dandy lion seed in the worlds winds in this silent garden.
*knock knock*
the doors of hearts are opened by subtle thieves and givers ,
not all taming happen on their own do they *wink*
to any that would imagine , thunder struck , well it did in its own way
by the presence of a leaf between them from here felt heart oak... a single fold of a leaf with a glow worm,
upon it.
of worthy note her eyes met his and his hers and anon unabashed they kissed...
not to say earth shattering but , will he say he never liked it will she no.......
to press the earth against your chest the wind blowing in your hair the moment a timeless vergine for the plucking of many a line in woe or joy of tidings and undoing's of frock and coat....
ever her fingers entwined the shaft of his bayworth staff , darkened by the sun and winds of the working world..
eager she was and not displeased did he be and most surly did he press his chances to steal all the kisses he could , and verily her lips sunk into his soul as one would sink a spoon to hilt in fine cream.
pressed as they where he could not help but run his fingers through her butter cup hair so soft and beautifully light and gently a thing in the worlds eyes,
her eyes did coarse his face amongst the stars her heart beat a drummings as of the wild and noble flute.
one could not breath for her scent were to precious and her lips so divine in the kissing that time itself had no meaning or end.
his eyes and heart you see where so gently stolen through her hand and he was entirly hers..
though you dream of one life it was never to be your dream for the lovers of hearts never leave..
passing time in her silken breath , of her lips and ears he did savour the taste of her fountain ... dew drops...
woe betide one who would hurt this which most comely make life so sweet..
for ever the moon would keep her in his world.
a story of the feeling more felt than known
it all started with an acorn drifting in the wind on the branch of the divine tree in a grove of the sapling gods,
druids cleaned and bards sung to the days of the sun...
softly drifting hazy mist covered the grounds as the growing fauns wondered distant hills in the depths of oaken and untamed lands...
in the centre of the grove in company it seemed lay two lovers ,
a bard it seems and his mate , both dressed in green and browns ,
harp within his hands a woeding whow sung a deep and violent beat of growing rocks cracking ice and flowers about to march to war.
her hands played with a piece of wood a pipe by the hand of loana sheilhan....
but of yor she did not as yet pluck it upon her dew filled lips so succulent and rounded though her bussum be, he noted with a weary smile..
her look to him in the manner of a doe with eyes cast to breesy things , prahapse a wolf comes...
a twig break or a single heart string pluck in the breese of her dawny brow ?
to the nerves within the moment , what was to be was ever excluded from eruption or spouting but was always known about in the eyes and ears of a childly sprouting..
to the match of pipes her voice did lift the winds to her heart where they swirl the dandy lion seed in the worlds winds in this silent garden.
*knock knock*
the doors of hearts are opened by subtle thieves and givers ,
not all taming happen on their own do they *wink*
to any that would imagine , thunder struck , well it did in its own way
by the presence of a leaf between them from here felt heart oak... a single fold of a leaf with a glow worm,
upon it.
of worthy note her eyes met his and his hers and anon unabashed they kissed...
not to say earth shattering but , will he say he never liked it will she no.......
to press the earth against your chest the wind blowing in your hair the moment a timeless vergine for the plucking of many a line in woe or joy of tidings and undoing's of frock and coat....
ever her fingers entwined the shaft of his bayworth staff , darkened by the sun and winds of the working world..
eager she was and not displeased did he be and most surly did he press his chances to steal all the kisses he could , and verily her lips sunk into his soul as one would sink a spoon to hilt in fine cream.
pressed as they where he could not help but run his fingers through her butter cup hair so soft and beautifully light and gently a thing in the worlds eyes,
her eyes did coarse his face amongst the stars her heart beat a drummings as of the wild and noble flute.
one could not breath for her scent were to precious and her lips so divine in the kissing that time itself had no meaning or end.
his eyes and heart you see where so gently stolen through her hand and he was entirly hers..
though you dream of one life it was never to be your dream for the lovers of hearts never leave..
passing time in her silken breath , of her lips and ears he did savour the taste of her fountain ... dew drops...
woe betide one who would hurt this which most comely make life so sweet..
for ever the moon would keep her in his world.
Beauty...I love it.
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