She went to sit by the window. In hope if he’ll pass tonight, she threw another leaf to the floor. Taken off the wind, it rose. It flew into the bill of the owl. The deciduous trees began to fall.
Magic thrown into the fire.
She went to sit by the window. In hope if he’ll pass tonight, she threw another leaf to the floor. Taken off the wind, it rose. It flew into the bill of the owl. The deciduous trees began to fall.
Poetic Diaries of Sylvester Van-Johnson 