Text
Text

A thousand blossomed pear trees in the stage's glow. Voices fill the season to the last sweet note. Sleeves ri…

A thousand blossomed pear trees in the stage's glow. Voices fill the season to the last sweet note. Sleeves rise like butterflies, strings cut deep and low. A smile, a sigh, each one the moon we know.

Comments

A thousand blossomed pear trees in the stage's glow. Voices fill the season to the last sw… | Where Winds Meet Database