about archive rss ask themeThe lawn is pressed by unseen feet, and ghosts return
Gently at twilight, gently go at dawn,
The sad intangible who grieve and yearn.
T.S. ELIOT
-
livemylifelikenobodyelse liked this
-
andthewickburnedblack reblogged this from georgiabails
-
Show more notesLoading...