The Poet took his words formed from delicate, silken strands of silver and gold, weaving them deftly into the heavy blanket of my infernal night. My Soul had grown cold, now the warmth of his Love wrapped me in Light.
Eily Nash (2020)

The Poet took his words formed from delicate, silken strands of silver and gold, weaving them deftly into the heavy blanket of my infernal night. My Soul had grown cold, now the warmth of his Love wrapped me in Light.
Eily Nash (2020)