Rain Falls GentlyRain falls gently on my windowpane I sit, and stare, watching the rain fall down I wait for sun to come againRain Falls Gently
Outside is murky, grey and plain All color gone, leaving behind only browns Rain falls gently on my windowpane
Washing away what had been a long reign The beauty washed away, lost is the crown I wait for sun to come again
We need something more, to entertain Rather then this rain that goes around, and around Rain falls gently on my windowpane
Sun, we will wait, for you to come again Until we see your light rise over our town
My HeroineHer laughter was music to me.My Heroine
She swung around the tree trunk, a silhouette in the sunlight, the canopy shading her almost completely from view. And, then, there she was. The sunlight was shining all over her radiant face, a smile that outmatched even the sun on it. Her hair seemed golden in the sunlight, shimmering almost with glee.
Her smiling eyes, her laughing voice – she was beautiful. Not physically, at least. She was short, very short, and thin, too thin. Her face was round, and her hair long down her back. Her eyes were large for her face, and her nose a small twirk of a bump.
She was not everyone’s aver
A Victorian Story - 1It was raining. Somehow, Felicity knew not how, the weather always seemed to reflect her mood. Or, perhaps, her mood reflected the weather, she realized, with a slight smile. She watched the rain poor down the window, and oh how she wished she could go outside. If it had been sunny, Lord and Lady D'Arte would have been over, with their children, William and Marie. And had the D'arte's came over, so would the White's, and so on and so forth until Felicity would have a large amount of friends and admirers over, and her parents would have a joyful small party over tea. They would have gone outside, and she would have watched thA Victorian Story - 1
When Nothingness Is allWhat does this mean, when you cannot find a way? When your life seems to be cracked, pointless and doomed? What will become of you? She wonders this as she stares up. Up into the sky. My eyes too stray up towards the sky and I remember with a pang, what color it is. A deep dark green. It is the color of her soul. A frown crosses her face immediately bringing my attention to her. What could she be thinking, why is she so different? But I know that she is. She stands up, brushing her hair out of her eyes, even though they still linger at the sky. Love, life, meaning. Gone. It was over. Perished. The worWhen Nothingness Is all
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Obsessed
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Whimsy (pl. Whimsies)
1. An odd or fanciful idea; a whim
2. A quaint or fanciful quality: stories full of whimsy.
Guess what i'm drawing....EDWARD! OMG!
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Nothin' but green lights from here.
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