One cool December morn
I woke feeling the wind blowing
the frosty sea in my heart
and painterly chased
the fleeting clouds
over the lee of my dreams.
The real journey does happen in your mind and I have a little notebook for a conspirator to listen to all my secret longings. Can you feel my heart beating upon the canvas pouch? I do. I really do.
The real journey does happen in your mind and I have a little notebook for a conspirator to listen to all my secret longings. Can you feel my heart beating upon the canvas pouch? I do. I really do.
No comments:
Post a Comment