Pull up a chair and relax. This is where I write, with my eyes. Stay as long as you like. You'll find me, where the wild roses grow ♥
the witching hour
when owls sharpen beaks
termagants loosen their hair
and the day becomes a purple bruise
on still waters
It is then a silent prayer/ rises; defying reflections/ strength for time follows.
Thank you! 🙂
Oh I do love this!
Thank you so much 🙂
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