To be in a place, so wondrously enchanted
In an instance, where my fairy tale wish gets granted.
The tune David hummed; like a spell
Was cast over those who could listen well:
Love transcended upon the hills;
No vacant notes, no cheap thrills…
Each chord escaping, from his lyre,
Would pierce through their souls, set on fire.
No more was a need for a talk of words:
Nothing ambiguous, nothing absurd.
Sweet winds of favour do have to arise.
So, turbulence of the waves holds no surprise.
I pay attention to your silence more than to your voice:
Your rhythm my focus, whilst blocking all noise.