All I can do is keep the memories of my blossoming years in my heart, and hope for a return of summer.
All I can do is keep the memories of my blossoming years in my heart, and hope for a return of summer.
by Jane Kenyon How long the winter has lasted—like a Mahler symphony, or an hour in the dentist’s chair. In the fields the grasses are matted and gray, making me think of June, […]