done. |
|
done. |
|
Last edited by Tavasion; 09-30-2009 at 01:53 AM.
The evening hangs beneath the moon, a silver thread on darkened dune.
With closing eyes and resting head; I know that sleep is coming soon.
Upon my pillow, safe in bed,
A thousand pictures fill my head,
I cannot sleep , my mids aflight;
and yet my limbs seems made of lead. ---Whitacre's Sleep---
Bookmarks