Originally posted on Blog de companie:
Cold is your heart Whose strings I cannot strum. Cold is the past Whose hours I cannot relive. Cold is the season Of rememberances fleeting And gaping wide in white furrows Where bears sleep…
Originally posted on Blog de companie:
Cold is your heart Whose strings I cannot strum. Cold is the past Whose hours I cannot relive. Cold is the season Of rememberances fleeting And gaping wide in white furrows Where bears sleep…