Flowers on the Wind
How grave it is after all, to see then that which you sought is only illusion, a flickering shadow on the wall, a mirage of your own making, as fleeting as the scent of flowers on the wind.
Writer, artist. brettcurley@gmail.com.
How grave it is after all, to see then that which you sought is only illusion, a flickering shadow on the wall, a mirage of your own making, as fleeting as the scent of flowers on the wind.
Writer, artist. brettcurley@gmail.com.
