quasi and his doings
Monday, January 25, 2016
Medow and hill
We walk across the lush green grass, eyes on the blue mountains.
The hills we must cross, to drench into the far away rains.
The clouds have come down and beckon us into their fold,
Onto the distant mountain stronghold...
Share to Twitter
Share to Facebook
Share to Pinterest
Post a comment
Post Comments (Atom)