Swiped from @sin.xline

A thousand butterflies swarm the blooming lavender. The swish of wings little more than a hush of silence. Flitting to and fro supping from the waning nectar and Gleefully bounding away in to the sunset to Find a perch whereupon to spend the coming night.

A magnificently honest rendering of low self esteem.

Some memories never fade, only get lost in the well of time.

“The frost is heaven’s first applause.”

“Letters are the most intimate form of travel.”

They make excellent lovers. But poor housemates!

I am not afraid.

If love is the current, then let prayer be the tide — carrying us home to each other and to Him.

Upon the shores of Biltwurt, Entwhistle in Eastern Wysterica was found a tiny blue gem.