From Poetshouse today:
Is the flicker of an eye all that love
is made of? A tickle blink of
sweet and spice, just a hint
of lark?
Catherine Wing
Isn’t that a nice tidbit?
From Poetshouse today:
Is the flicker of an eye all that love
is made of? A tickle blink of
sweet and spice, just a hint
of lark?
Catherine Wing
Isn’t that a nice tidbit?
If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music he hears, however measured or far away.
