top of page

By Emily Brontë

Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away; Lengthen night and shorten day; Every leaf speaks bliss to me Fluttering from the autumn tree. I shall smile when wreaths of snow Blossom where the rose should grow; I shall sing when night’s decay Ushers in a drearier day. –Emily Brontë (1818–48)

22 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Dear B

Dear B, The memories you have given me has changed my life forever. So many beautiful memories that I can cherish each and every day. Memories I can look back on and appreciate with gratitude. The opp

A Blank Room

A blank room, a canvas. Three beds nicely tucked waiting for their next patients. Food comes in, cold sweaty steamed food. Half touched, the remains get tossed away. Cries spill out, without a single

Commentaires


bottom of page