Fog on her glasses, From the still steaming tea, A book in her hand, As she casually reads. A catch in her breath, As the Climax grows near, She's deaf to the world : The book's all she can hear. She's completely lost now, or perhaps she is found, In this strange paper world That's far from the ground.
[KS-MK] Op weg naar een klein (s)Kate-je eind apr. ‘21 "Somewhere... somewhere in time's own space, there must be some pastured place. Where creeks sing on and tall trees grow. Some pardise where horses go. For by the love that guids my pen,I know great horses live again." Bonnie ('95-'09) - Boy ('04-'08)