The Lady and Her Mandolin
The mandolin played softly from the room beneath my bed, the melody matched the moonlight dancing on the prisms hanging in my window. The lady plays repeatedly, thrumming aimlessly, as the night breeze takes the harmony over the cliff falling gently into the sea. In her room cascading long tawny silk, lying upon sheets white as milk. her skin glistening, motionless, her eyes like a cobalt sky. I go sit down beside her I can vision her pouring Brandywine. I lay in a sea of love, saffron scents, my hunger spent, and then she slowly begin her aimlessly thrumming once more.
Love and Peace