Golden streams flow from on high. just to turn to silver wings that flutter by. A flicking tail can mean many things, but it is in the eyes that the story is seen. As angels sit upon their golden thrones. Mortals morn from painful thrones. A singing voice can be heard from below. Is it the voice of an angel or the sound of lovers embrace

Again another picture of me and my mate  Itahallo This time we be in our feral forms. I did the little poems

Art by  heathermassacre