 | | 21/09/2011 02:12
Sur le blog Amy Nelson
I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the vegetation,
I am eating apples, masked in gentleness, dreaming of one hundred acres.Lately, I've been feasting on drips of lemon water, and the bewilderment of leaves. The summer tints of white flowers, and exposed foliage are whirling into abandon. Orange flecks, and yellow sparks are frisking every Oak Tree. Autumn is here, and our maps become stained with a new season.The weeks are passing. Straying, and leaving wrinkles on the vintage folk.I've been coating myself in school feathers. Short stories about lonely planets, grammar musings, and banana bread for cooking class. I am thankful I live in a world full of warm tea, and soapy water baths. If it wasn't...
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