Cry Me a River Oct9 Cry me a river, weep me a stream, sob me a rivulet on autumn-clad dream. Mourn me a pretty brook dappled with rain, so I will know I can let go of this pain. Share this:FacebookEmailPinterestTwitterLinkedInTumblrLike this:Like Loading...
Moss Sep24 Rolling stones won’t gather moss, but what of those that do? Stationary, stable sorts will sport green fuzz, it’s true – for as the current trickles past with music, soft and low, the rocks will give their mossy guests a lovely place to grow. Share this:FacebookEmailPinterestTwitterLinkedInTumblrLike this:Like Loading...