217 Babel Street | Apartment 7
Margaret can feel the waters flowing
Through her fingers
Where the channels separate
And she knows this to be wrong
There should be one river only, only one,
Not two
With cold aching hands she attempts
To sew the rivers back together
To weave the waters into one skein
Blue, and golden beneath the sun
Lips touch her lips...
My name is Margaret Beaumont. I have a blue dress made of water. I have sewed it myself, I have sewed the waters together, waters gathered from where the two rivers cross and flow and join together, as one, down from the hills of Brecon, the waters murmuring, whispering, the lips of water glancing, weaving together. I have made a dress of blue golden sunbeams and sparkling waters, I have danced in the blue dress, I am dancing, I am dancing now, still, away from...
The water flows freely away from her
The rivers part
The lips part
Please Harry
Please