Mistica Chronicles


Welcome to Issue 47

rawne Winning Entry

The lonely heart, is but a cry for love
Oh! How she does walk, her gliding graces
It is the heart of the twinkling notes from above
Down they descend, into the darkest of places
To soften even the most hardy of stranger hearts
For this kind gift given, is a mirror
Of the adoration he holds
Her essence drawn into a song of three parts
Soothingly, softly, the melodies that draw nearer
Whispering sweet nothings, of the girl his music molds

Praise the joy, of his fingers that dance
Swiftly along the strings that preach his spirit
And the captivating hold of his lullaby at a glance
His soul yearns to be fulfilled, that she would stop to hear it
These sweet serenades, meant only to be hers
Resound deeply, of these feelings yet to be said
For these notes plead his will, of this love that need be heard
Are swept gently by her as pastel blurs
Truly the intentions of the world are not ill-bred
But could it be destiny, his affection might only reach her in words?