Wednesday, May 18, 2005
taken from Return Of The Native
While she looked a heron arose on that side of the sky and flew on with his face towards the sun. He had come dripping wet from some pool in the valleys, and as he flew the edges and lining of his wings, his thighs and his breast were so caught by the bright sunbeams that he appeared as if formed of burnished silver. Up in the zenith where he was seemed a free and happy place, away from all contact with the earthly ball to which she was pinioned; and she wished that she could arise uncrushed from its surface and fly as he flew then.
James Barr at 10:26 AM
|
your lipstick, his collar
Sorrow drips into your heart through a pinhole 
i am james, you are stranger.. lets make love.
13/f/sg
millionsopeaches@hotmail
Just like a faucet that leaks and there is comfort in the sound
But while you debate half empty or half full,
Website Counters It slowly rises, your love is gonna drown
designer blogskins blogger |
