The Flying Girl


Amidst the field lies a little girl,
Who dreams of big and the entire world?
But here, she found, a little friend,
Whose dream is strong without an end.
They love and care each other’s grace,
Of life they bond now grown and trace.
As the old mill spins its wicked wheel,
Life turns grey and dull from real.

And time goes by the two then play,
That chase around the late-noon day.
Though land itself then fade such hue,
The two then hold their innocent view.
For its gentle glow of sapphire light,
Hope then blooms against the blight.
In void from death their dreams stood strong,
Against the mill that sing its song.

For if such song could pierce their heart?
Then the old mill claims its wicked part.

Art: The Mill by JohnoftheNorth

Music: Dreams by CursedSnake



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