Song by T.S. Eliot
When we came home across the hill
No leaves were fallen from the trees;
The gentle fingers of the breeze
Had torn no quivering cobweb down.
The hedgerow bloomed with flowers still,
No withered petals lay beneath;
But the wild roses in your wreath
Were faded, and the leaves were brown.
Art by Maddy Young
Recommended listening: 2003 Dream - Jarrow Ballad Of The Broken Seas - Isobel Campbell & Mark Lanegan Links of the Day: Motorcycle Macbeth Somebody App
Jason Silva's Philosophical Espresso Shots of Awe and Wonder + The Power of Poetry The Absurd Courage of Choosing To Live