The snow falls in blanketing drifts, the sky is grey and white and the sun has gone away, but i my head, I know that someday soon, I'll hear cicadas and feel the warm summer air and the coldness of a beer in my grip.
Photo - N
Words - S
She came from the south. He came from the sticks. Somehow, they made all this from pixels and love.
No comments:
Post a Comment