Lena
hope is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul
that perches in the soul
Her head dipped while she listened, eyes casually sauntering back and forth over the rows and rows of kiosks, the steady beam of lights, the glow of halogen accessories dotting the ivory landscape. There was a slight cringe and grimace at the advice, and only because it’d be more than a passive aggressive stance, when all notions and things were considered. “This one is for an Ascended,” and she shrugged her shoulders, wondering if Hadama would catch her meaning – uncertain how matters were scorched, unsettled, or neutral between merpeople and the New God’s creations. “Maybe I’ll just peruse then.”
Thereafter she sauntered, giving a little wave, ensuring she could snag at the hot, fruity drinks, the roasted candied nuts, before picking at something else along the periphery.
Thereafter she sauntered, giving a little wave, ensuring she could snag at the hot, fruity drinks, the roasted candied nuts, before picking at something else along the periphery.
and sings the tune without the words
and never stops at all
and never stops at all
