Music: So young—The Corrs
Time:22:17
Looking at herself in the mirror, she smiles nervously at the pale girl, and is glad when she smiles back.
Today's the day.
She twirls at her golden curls, so full and so ready.
Ready for what? For cushioning the rest of her life, her head next to his?
She is nervous, and tugging almost violently at her hair now.
Ready for what? For cushioning the rest of her life, her head next to his?
She is nervous, and tugging almost violently at her hair now.
But then outside the sun shifts in the comfort of his clouds, allowing a peek a golden ray seep out, it penetrates through her open window. Feeling the glowing warmth on the the back of her bare neck, the girl closes her eyes, enjoying this quiet moment of blessing.
In the back of her mind, a wild rush of passion, as if tipped over by a careless waitress, spills and colours inch by inch the carpet of her tranquil spirit. Too warm, tiny beads of sweat glisten on her pearl smooth shoulder blades, forming a soft illusion of crystalled wings.
In the back of her mind, a wild rush of passion, as if tipped over by a careless waitress, spills and colours inch by inch the carpet of her tranquil spirit. Too warm, tiny beads of sweat glisten on her pearl smooth shoulder blades, forming a soft illusion of crystalled wings.
A little white bird was composing the most delicate song, delivering with all his heart, he sang until his heart broke. People who heard shed tears and felt genuinely sorry.
The song was made for the girl, an invitation.
The girl spread those wings and flew.
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