You knew I would make it, murmour murmour, shadows rumbling on the stair case.
A little night time piano rythms its way tunes meladrmatic, (nocturne's ups and downs, sleepy timbers in my drumrolls), conumndrum.
Slpeey sleepy seeps dusty wooden staircases, rolling down in a circular form, sunlight tight cascaades and the contrast (which is beauty itself) delights in playful motion- my eyes.
You are a downwards soiralling stiarcase in milan as the autumn sun seeps upon and plays with teh dust which permeates it. The wood is bare and naked feet, delight upon its furry but smooth surface.
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