rose hips


When the rose is faded,
Memory may still dwell on
Her beauty shadowed,
And the sweet smell gone.

That vanishing loveliness,
That burdening breath,
No bond of life hath then,
Nor grief of death.

‘Tis the immortal thought
Whose passion still
Makes the changing
The unchangeable.

Oh, thus thy beauty,
Loveliest on earth to me,
Dark with no sorrow, shines
And burns, with thee.

When The Rose Is Faded- Walter de la Mare


morning light

img_4157img_4175“Sorrow send me not to sleep but die away with morning light & by the time I rise be gone even from my memory”                                                – Stephen Millard

la luna



Discourse of your course & there finding rhyme, all the while searching yours & there finding mine.                                                                                                        – Stephen Millard