Sometimes living means
Walking slowly between similar days
In order to find an adventure
In the middle of the way
YOU ARE READING
H I M
Poetry"Blue eyes for distant Stars Honey eyes for Sunlight, We are the crashing of waves on sand Tree branches reaching for the bright sky We are where you end and I start; We were made to belong." This is a chapter in a book I am putting together. And t...
s l o w l y
Sometimes living means
Walking slowly between similar days
In order to find an adventure
In the middle of the way
