Marty Willson - Winter Splinter Bay

Golden inch a pinch of dust
The desert sinks like deserts must
A shelf of moon a bag of skies
In serpent dips the seconds fly
Peril holds your upset day
and paints the darkness back to grey
Dip my fingers in the stars
Princes greet the Eastern Shahs
Belts that hold a windy past
Your hips regret the tour can't last


Palace gardens melt to milk
And servants swim in seas of silk
Help is jewels on ivory staffs
And watch them roll down secret paths
Lace can talk in worlds like this
Windows think that branches kiss
Sorrows grow if sails are low