Sounds like bells drip off your lips pooling into a pond of promise. Vows ring out of golden tulips singing sweet petal soft sonnets. Whispers become songs from sanctuary towers chiming a reminder of time. With time comes growth and volume rises lifting you up Liberty’s spine. In this tower lives a bell so bulbous and weathered wearing a striking line of age. In your ear she screams you are too close to hear anything but clamor. Sounds like bells can start so soft leaving lingering hums of sadness. Sounds like bells can start so soft but bellow out and become disastrous.