the moon is jealous;
summoning the night to obscure you
infinitely lovelier
the sun is no better;
her light shines to make us part, our bed
infinitely warmer
It's hard being a teenager, especially when you're 30
the moon is jealous;
summoning the night to obscure you
infinitely lovelier
the sun is no better;
her light shines to make us part, our bed
infinitely warmer
Reblogged this on By the Mighty Mumford and commented:
poetry at its finest—simple and profound!