I’ll pluck the colors of the skies,
right out of the air,
and weave them ‘fore your very eyes.

I’ll grasp azure and cyan dyes
and cerulean most fair.
I’ll pluck the colors of the skies.

I’ll work until the sunset vies
crimson shades with glaucous glares
and weave them ‘fore your very eyes.

I’ll wait until the moonbeams rise
and thread a set, or perhaps a pair.
I’ll pluck the colors of the skies

Throughout the night, until sunrise
spills rivers of red which I’ll prepare
and weave them ‘fore your very eyes.

I’ll secure them with firm ties
and lay the veil upon your hair.
I’ll pluck the colors of the skies
and weave them ‘fore your very eyes.

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