Lena
and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm
and sore must be the storm
She wasn’t quite sure how to react to the statement at first. Bashful and hesitant, her eyes flickered down to the stone, and then upwards, to the serene aspects of the garden and Celestine itself; for not once had she considered herself noteworthy. “I try,” was the only thing she could surmise after a moment of self-reflection – and perhaps that was all she’d ever ask of herself. To try. “But thank you just the same.”
Tilting her head vaguely, she pondered over the reaches of the other enclosures, then began sweeping once more, snagging at more nooks and crannies near the edges of one of the gates. “Was there anything else you wanted to see?” She’d given him quite a list after all, and there was always plenty more.
Tilting her head vaguely, she pondered over the reaches of the other enclosures, then began sweeping once more, snagging at more nooks and crannies near the edges of one of the gates. “Was there anything else you wanted to see?” She’d given him quite a list after all, and there was always plenty more.
that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm
that kept so many warm
