« Reply #59800 on: Jul 21, 2008, 10:01 AM »
« Last Edit: Jul 21, 2008, 10:04 AM by tpe »
Logged
As the moon lingers a moment over the bitterroots, before its descent into the invisible, my mind is filled with song. I find I am humming softly, not to the music, but something else, some place else, a place remembered; a field of grass where no one seemed to have been except a deer, and the memory is strengthened by the feeling of you, dancing in my awkward arms.............
