living jewels in a mirror land
where warm sun shines on two singers.
There I spoke my mind and died.
A crone conducts her orchestra of lightning bolts.
The emotional lady blushes the next day.
An angel who's halo is infinity
pats the king of lions.
she seems to know her own mind,
and suspects material well being
All in all a delight of friendly gossip.
Sometimes things are repaired by mercy
and not contrivance.