Februar 2012
I’m gonna live where the green grass grows. Watch my corn pop up in rows. Everynight be tucked in close to you Raise our kids where the good Lord’s blessed. Point our rocking chairs towards the west. And plan our dreams where the peaceful river flows. Where the green grass grows.
If the moon smiled, she would resemble you.
You leave the same impression
Of...
– Sylvia Plath (via floralnymph)