T. Rex - Wind Quartets

The wind quartet howls softly My jeep hand strokes her necklace Crusted, crammed with old Etruscan gold. Her bird head torn with summer Inspects a Spartan runner Robbing time a chosen Prince of Speed My goblet drenched with Autumn Tears for my dead cat Ena Silver Surfer sorcerer of spray. She headed deep in chartreuse A falcon glimpse of white teeth Separated by lace cinnamon folds. We hid and rid in hansom Cab wrenched from lost Byzantium Lordlett who once held the earth In chains