Garden love
I wish I had an old tub to carry out and bath in the garden. I’d let the flying leaves fall on the water and sun shift trough it. Rain would raise the surface, pour it over. I’d let my boats escape with the flow, land next to clover.
I wish I had an old tub to carry out and bath in the garden. I’d let the flying leaves fall on the water and sun shift trough it. Rain would raise the surface, pour it over. I’d let my boats escape with the flow, land next to clover.