Through a rusted open iron gate the once carefully tended courtyard waits, rosebushes embrace the twiggy hydrangeas, a kitchen sink sleeps in a bed of foxglove, violets volunteer underfoot. The dirt smells rich, spongy, decaying leaves left in layers from a second season of regeneration alone. A pair of pink flamingos on painfully bent wire legs
(
Read more... )
Comments 11
xxox x
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
I will be there with my tutu and bubble stick darling.
Sexless and Rosey.
Reply
Reply
Reply
i thought i would tell you
your entries are absolutely amazing
wow
Have a nice day ♥
Reply
Leave a comment