Summers and solitude, winters and wistfulness. God, Arctic snow and strawberries.
Sunday, September 13, 2015
pale stars rising
"Understand, I’ll slip quietly away from the noisy crowd when I see the
pale stars rising, blooming, over the oaks. I’ll pursue solitary
pathways through the pale twilit meadows, with only this one dream: You
come too."
1 comment:
beautiful.
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