untitledwhen she sleeps,the inside of her mind is a spanish lullabyjust gentle chords strung into abeautiful tapestry of sound. her skinsmells of oranges and cloves, and her hair iscinnamon brown. she reminds you ofthe feeling of waking up in the morning,thirsty. she is the song you play forevery kind of weatherevery kind of mood. you feel herfingers on your cheek when you sleep,you dream she's there with you. and evenwhen she's far away,you hear her like the voice of a flute.a haunting sound carried onthe wind, past hills and fields andhome to you.