so
my feelings are captured
in some micro fictions' instrument
πΌ
the music from the background
renders a so ravishing passage
luring me in a psychic transit
πΌ
just as the wind plays with my hair
just as the sun kisses my cheeks
just as the stars shine in my eyes
just as the moon hugs me
πΌ
but when music's gonna stop,
could you intuit how orphan
would be stories' vocabulary and
where the feelings will dawdle