Yellow shadows. Lettered memories.
Distributed inspirations.
Night fades into dawn.
Chilly blanket. A devoted alarm.
Layered clothing.
Examination. A contemptuous hurry.
Detours on snowy pathways. Shuffle.
Dreamy vapours. Slippery crystals.
Symphonies in white.
Home. A waiting package.
The heart leaps.
I take it then, that the Ballerina has arrived in a pink Tutu.
ReplyDeleteYes, she has, with all her lepidopteran grace. Accompanied by the epistolary confessions of a grand old man.
ReplyDelete