There are dreams
nobody will ever know,
regarding cinnamon
and roses and toasty hands
in places of comfort,
of hidden crowds listening,
of a place where time
is a relic and love is like water,
where flight hurts
like winning.
There are dreams
nobody will ever know,
regarding cinnamon
and roses and toasty hands
in places of comfort,
of hidden crowds listening,
of a place where time
is a relic and love is like water,
where flight hurts
like winning.