An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,AprilComes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers. —Edna St. Vincent Millay
boy, if railroad tracks aren’t a flight of uncarpeted stairs. you brought those two together for me. and if strewn isn’t what the bladderpods aren’t doing with themselves, carpeting your way to this sky…. i always thought i should read more edna. but it’s you who takes me to the color-strewn sky every night, and brings back these souvenirs of sky flowers that don’t otherwise last that long.
One response to “Is nothing,”
boy, if railroad tracks aren’t a flight of uncarpeted stairs. you brought those two together for me. and if strewn isn’t what the bladderpods aren’t doing with themselves, carpeting your way to this sky…. i always thought i should read more edna. but it’s you who takes me to the color-strewn sky every night, and brings back these souvenirs of sky flowers that don’t otherwise last that long.