Rebecca Stansfield Poems
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The Kind Of Day When Violins Play
Clouds made up of sounds of violins, the white clouds that seldom move, if you stare for days.
The birds that never seem to look angry, even as the crows, eat their own friendships.
The kind of day when the sky, looks like a flying ocean, and you want to jump up into it, not realising that you cannot fly upside down.
When the monsoon is barley a problem, because you like the look of the rain anyway, because it looks like sunrays, sunrays from the sky.
The kind of day when the trees hardly seem to sway, even if there was a tornado, you'd refuse to run away.
And the crickets that ...
Tender eyes erase,
There is no time for essence.
Swimming through me as a bird that's free,
Love last for eternity.
Time has no importance over the other,
Swimming through me is your love for me,
And although that you'll never know,
We are creatures of eternity.