minimgardens

outside the world drips and drops while, inside, a cool breeze ghosts across my flushed cheek and the smell of rain drifts through the window... these are a wonderful contrast to the scratchy woolen blanket and the warm heartbeat under mine ear by this slumbering boy who is my keeper

rain falls quietly the gentle rhythm without rhythm of the grey skies a world sketched- shifting and blurred, a thought unfinished

Sparkling spheres, caught in the silver trappings of a spider's web decorating the nooks of the forest, like hidden nests of fairies' diamonds or glittering crowns forgotten after a night of revelry fleeting, only to be seen that are disappear'd as soon as one attempts to possess them melting back into the soft ground