For my ears still covet
A language broken into feeling
Not mere words I'll come to revisit in my Mid-day dream
But soft sounds that weigh, and shake all doubts above me
Until they're beneath me
I am but a single Peach Tree, swaying lonely in the Sun
Fruit falls, as do all things
Now and again
The scar-clad hound still rises, early
Baying whilst the scattered winds do play
With stubborn white Winter paws
Hungrier than ever
For my ears still covet
A language, broken into love

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