How can flowers make crying so beautiful? They don’t know sadness nor do they utter a word. Even as the rain falls, they stand so tall— radiating a strength so small.
Melodies of birds, carried on gospel winds, greet the rising phoenix. Caught in its gentlest gale, evening subsides to rest again. Such is the silence— fit for a phoenix.
giving are the hands life, love, and splendid grandeur birthing radiance
When you say you’re feeling “Blue”, there are different hues you can choose. Someone is bound to drown for you.
∼strummin’ by the sea∼ ∼my ukulele and me∼ ∼music rushing in∼
A shell by the shore cannot wait to go back home— a place as hollow