At dawn, we met by sa.re We went down into the silent garden. Dawn is the time when nothing breathes, the hour of silence. Everything is transfixed, only the light moves. Leonora Carrington
Comfortable Beings by sa.re Chat-fic and other benign conversations #2 “Hope” is the thing with feathers - That perches in the soul - And sings the tune without the words - And never stops - at all - Emily Dickinson
Comments
Post a Comment