Creative writing student @ University of Winchester | 19 | UK
When he was a child, he poked his head out of his frozen, earthy home From the breast of his mother he fled for his father's azure skies to roam.
By inactive6 years ago in Poets
Though by blood we are bound and the likeness of our line and our ancestors lay side-by-side in the ground, their lives in etched stone enshrined.
The wrath of winter fades away on Zephyr's drowsy, warmed sigh that bids the trees to creak and sway and let their blossoms free to fly
