God paints the sunrise with the softest blues//And loverly, effervescent yellows//If I were a bird, it'd be my featherbed//And if I were a melody, it'd be my complement
Here I am
Ross, pt. II
The sway and croon of the evening's orchestration became a deafening cascade of the purest emotion, as can be expected from any young boy who has not yet learned to know any better or any worse. Innocence crystalline as a sunset on the sea's horizon glistened and glanced off of the greenhouse's glass walls, and... Continue Reading →
December Rose 