Her love would surely grow. She planted it and watered it with beauty that she'd shown. She sat beneath its branches, sighing in the shade. She marveled at the little piece of magic that she made. She took it in her heart and placed it in his hands, it blossomed and it flowered and away with it he ran.
"Clay lies still, but blood’s a rover / Breath’s aware that will not keep. / Up, lad: when the journey’s over / There’ll be time enough to sleep."
A. E. Housman (via ashleeincannes)
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