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In the warm air of angelic legends,
it is written how the sun and moon were snatched away,
making ethereal love pacts in heavenly whispers.
Two souls captured in wintry winds,
by ancient angelic stories told,
between kisses that steal spirits and feelings.
She, prisoner of silent dunes,
according to ancient legends, without love lies,
while a blind man loves luminous stars.
In a cross of constellations, like an ancient dance,
were written and destinies manipulated by beliefs,
avoiding onslaughts of love in their scales.
I think it would be better if the man's color was not pure white. My focus was directly on its custom. Hehehe, nice poetry.
The colours are decorated, thank you for reading me.
Welcome.