mourninglory
Cashmere wool. The soft, delicate, cool touch of silk against my face on a crisp spring morning. The rough, aged feel of tree bark underneath my fingertips as I walk through fresh cut grass covered in dew. The warmth of the sun on my shoulders feels like hot water rushing down my back and the wind pulls me in directions that I have never explored.
writing since 2012 · 1 entries · 1 days shown up
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the words DaleAnne reaches for
cashmerewoolsoftdelicatecooltouchsilkagainstfacecrispspringmorningroughagedtreebark