The Colour of Time - Part 16

 

'Come on, Dora of Wye;' said the snowlion who was once the spirit of the Temple. 'Stop thinking about Olive things like all the other raindeers and booksmiths. Feel the snow beneath my feet like I have never felt it before because I had no feet before, no body, no physical form.'

He jumped and danced around like a young cub. He sniffed the snow and walked right through the highest snow dunes.

'It is cold, Dora of Wye,' he exclaimed. 'It is wet and it is freezing. It hurts, but I love it.'

He rolled around under the frosted trees and uttered the most joyful laughter Dora had ever heard from a living being.

'Let's have a snowball-fight,' the snowlion suggested. 'But first of all you have to give me a name! Name me, Dora of Wye! Name me!'

'So, ho, said the bearded saint in his mitre,' Bromford, the bard, just finished one of his stories in front of an audience outside an Alehouse, 'So, ho, ho.'

The llama looked around and gave a more than strange addition to this story, 'Ever since I was a young cria, I've played the silver ball. From Soho down to Brighton, I must've played 'em all.'

Bromford stopped when he noticed that Alehouse and audience were gone.

'So we are in London now?' he asked.

'From Paris down to London, I must have played 'em all,' the animal stuttered.

"Bromford"

Dropped off the edge again down in Bromford
"Don't even bat an eye
If the eagle cries" the rasta man says
Just cause the desert likes your girls flesh
And no angel came.

I don't think you even know
What you think you just said
So go on
Spill your seed
Shake your gun to the rasta man's head
And the desert
She must be blessed
And no angel came.

There's a time to keep it up
A time to keep it in
The Indian is told
The cowboy is his friend
You know that I can breathe
Even when I cheat
Should Should've been over for me

No angel came.
No angel came.
No angel came.
No angel came.
No angel came.
No angel came.
No angel came.
No angel came.
No angel came.

Today is Tuesday, the 16th of December 2025.