When we’re aged angels. With these words written in the creases of our well-read faces. When our hair has fallen through too many shades of autumn and lies heaped beneath us, a knotted nest for our belated bones. When our gaze has cracked like china teacup sheen and all we see is sepia dreams. Of crosswords and washing machines. Then and only then.
3 comments:
One of the bst i have read.I am honest.I loved your lines...so simple yet too deep...
'Sepia dreams'... such beautiful words. And the picture is amazing...x
so beautiful and meditative - mysterious in a way too
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