contrary things 

They promised that they would live to a song of their own making when they could sing and make music. It would be like a patch of grass, that song, floating on the ocean, on an endless wave. There would be a toy house and toy flowers and a half moon overhead and a cloud overhead and underneath and a sense of sorrow in the music that told her tale and a sense of hope that told his.
High notes would simmer with drum beats and low notes with the ocean waves. There would be a spoonful of freedom and a cup of wildness in it and some of the song would be for the people and some of it only they would know. There would be something spicy about their song and something bittersweet  and nostalgic and scary. There would be warmth and this would swirl up in a cacophony of simmering sound until their souls feel like they could fill the sky or the sky could fill them and there would be a breeziness and a swift rise and fall of notes as the song swelled and came to an end. They would live one day, they promised, to that song.

About theshadowsofthenight

An amateur writer and amateur artist :)
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