Maybe there’s still hope for a new morning, for clouds that cluster like ripe grapes which, when squeezed, will release from the heavens the sweet streams of enchanted days.
Author: Source Author
From The New Yorker
Maybe there’s still hope for a new morning, for clouds that cluster like ripe grapes which, when squeezed, will release from the heavens the sweet streams of enchanted days.
From The New Yorker