The music is loud.
The sound crescendos.
It courses through her veins, blood.
It is magic to her.
All the world melts away.
You are left,
With her in your hand
And laughter on her tongue.
It is so prevalent,
You can taste the joy on her lips, honey.
She is elegant in her bliss.
You are just her company.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem