I should write and sing songs in my writing. There is a colour – deep – and painless in its colourings. Its arms are yours to enjoy always. Withdraw there when the time comes. When all lose their heads and yours is heavy with dreams seemingly unfulfilled. They will come – and your eyes, tired from looking into the bleak mist distance, will ease. And warmth will come. Yours. It will be all you have ever known.
ColourIn Uncategorized on 27 December, 2011 at 01:55