May 2011
3 posts
““But in the end, the most important thing to accept is that no matter how...”
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Many a year was I Perched out upon the sea The waves would wash my tears, The wind, my memory I’d hear the ocean breathe Exhale upon the shore I knew the tempest’s blood Its wrath I would endure And so the years went by Within my rocky cell With only a mouse or bird My friend; I loved them well And so it came to pass I’d come here to Romani And many a year it took Till I arrived...
