In My Dream
There is a beautiful girl in my dream. Her great beauty would bend the will of Zeus and win more hearts than King Alexander justly ruled over in his quest for power.
My dream is a marvelous vision and will exist for ever on my mind. Just like a zebra can not lose its stripes, but wears a quarrel of black and albino, so will I keep my dream preserved until old age rudely erases it.
She is well-spoken and dictates the vision like a goddess: quickly she fixes any issues that cause unhappiness, and makes the vision a faultless, blissful fantasy as smooth as jazz.
She has eyes that are quotes of poetry and love, and they gaze at me and soothe me- they’re a fantasy of gentle beauty. Her nose, crowned by a jewel- the very gem of excess beauty- a freckle penned by an angel, courses through my thoughts endlessly.
I could talk of her for a very long time… It could take more than a year to tell how wonderful and beautiful my dream girl can be. And the dream, too, can often be too extraordinary to perfectly retell. For how could pen and paper capture a dream with flowing fluidity like that of quiet jazz?
While dreaming of her, I see her unique charm and experience her wisdom. Knowing she’s mine makes each dream an unbelievable, joyous ride in a zone of enigma.
In a symphony of jazz, this girl calms my soul, working out any bad situation, with loving actions fixing any qualms of living.
I can speak forever, but a broken record doesn’t do her extravagance justice. Her wisdom is beyond compare. Her intricateness requires ages to comprehend. She razzes and teases me with each whisper. She is perfection in a dream.
Adonis
{kwoo§hie}* said...
habbe berdi chicito buerrito.
taco flayvorred keesez.
Adonis said...