Sometimes in my dreams we are nothing more than morning. When I am fall pond, she is the mist that rises thickly up and covers me. And when she is grass, I am the dew that drips and clings on her every blade. . How Rude! - Wednesday, Sept. 22, 2004 - 12:16 PM One small step but no giant leap. - Tuesday, Sept. 30, 2003 - 11:17 AM Where's George? - Thursday, Sept. 25, 2003 - 12:48 PM |
a Nifty design
|