
(Source: crazyman1951)
Nature takes back.
It waits.
The patience of a saint.
For time to pass.
Every so slowly.
Then it reaches in.
And takes back its own.
Nature takes back.
It waits.
The patience of a saint.
For time to pass.
Every so slowly.
Then it reaches in.
And takes back its own.
Nature takes back.
It waits.
The patience of a saint.
For time to pass.
Every so slowly.
Then it reaches in.
And takes back its own.
Do you have someone waiting for you to come home?
Is she waiting at the window, day after day,
year after year?
Has she grown older?
Is she sad?
Or is she a ghost like you,
waiting for you to find her?