On the Last Day of Advent
Evening. Out for the usual walk. The yards are all aglow. Though, amid these patchworks of anticipation, the mind wanders along the shadows in between. In the…
Evening. Out for the usual walk. The yards are all aglow. Though, amid these patchworks of anticipation, the mind wanders along the shadows in between. In the…
Why this weeping upon the ramparts? Might your tears be an oblation to Apollo?…