On a late and lonely autumn day
I wish I were a painter.
And when the few leaves
rustle in the damp wind,
I’d paint within my soul
the infinite call of nature.
Nothing Is Without Future https://amzn.to/2mImFVL
On a late and lonely autumn day
I wish I were a painter.
And when the few leaves
rustle in the damp wind,
I’d paint within my soul
the infinite call of nature.
Nothing Is Without Future https://amzn.to/2mImFVL