I am dust and my story ends here.
Tipani flower skies blazing rapture of color laced tree crowns silhouettes along the ocean diamond necklaced beach...of my heart in fragrance of love spilled by caressing kisses of the sun opening the...
It is usually unbearably painful to read a book by an author who knows way less than you do, unless the book is a novel.
Sacrifice of the self is sheer stupidity if sacrifice is not for the self.
Music shouldn't be just a tune, it should be a touch.
Is that you giggling away to glory?Or is that just the flowers mingling with the bees and telling their story?
The sky blue strengthens slowly, the dawn light rosy and pale the summer song of our romance begin to unveil...with every heart beat and the waves' breath...the time stood in harmony still. Your morni...
This love is hard core. Let's make it soft porn.
The flower doth not worry, and the tree doth not waver.
We are all born as storytellers. Our inner voice tells the first story we ever hear.
In my heaven sweet melodies of the skies ripple pool of the sea playing sweet song to me, sharing tales of the past, blending with mine as mirage, painting new...I breathe in, am in love and alive...