i'm a pretty flower girl
check out my pretty flower curls
A robin watches her as she wanders. Its eyes blink bright as gold - bright as suns framed by their wild planets. In its beak a leaf it holds. It is blue like water and it ripples as puddles may. It drops the leaf and it falls like a droplet to splash between the luscious grasses. The little bird does not dismay and parts its beak to sing a song. Yet the sound that fills this girl’s ears is not like any bird should sing.
Oh the air is filled with organ song, violins and ivory keys. Symphonies ring and the girl stops, for oh, indeed, this is like nothing she has heard before. The winter bird sings of times and planets, of magics waning and spells creating. It makes a metronome in her heart and it is a lub-dub, a lub-dub, an echo of the berries that bloomed in ivy leaves and rose up, up into the highest sky.
She is a daring girl, this Florentine. With curious lips she reaches forward and the bird keeps singing, singing, singing. Not even when hot breath rustles the leaves upon it song-filled chest does it flounder in its masterpiece. But oh those gold eyes glitter as they watch this flower-girl…
florentine
rocking your pretty flower world
