Elizabeth-- for I ‘13 What shall I say because talk I must?

That I can create the sound of music? sounds of vowels and strung on consonants a rainbow depicts moistened by its hues then booming begins that thunder expands orchestral as the last day of August in reeds of timber’s hallowed substance the crescendos of perceptual Dew vibrant with colors, a radiant spectrum-according to its rhythms and tempos and lovely as a melody-made new plays notes upon chords of the horizon amplified as they’re threaded -- a Day fill-raining and painting and listening still.

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