Unto such a time are we born, where the heat of the sun beats upon our brow, and we cry out for the waters to run over mind, body, soul, death and eternal embrace.
An orchid for my withering garden lays enchanted with beauty, beauty fading, beauty lost, beauty famed.
Betwixt the quaint log cabin and it's weather-worn shed, lays the garden, a garden of sorrow, under which hath I buried my heart and my love, which like my garden is wretched and dieing.
An orchid for my withering garden lays enchanted with beauty, beauty fading, beauty lost, beauty famed.
Betwixt the quaint log cabin and it's weather-worn shed, lays the garden, a garden of sorrow, under which hath I buried my heart and my love, which like my garden is wretched and dieing.